Anchor
by Kitty Smith
Summary: Sometimes, it just takes a little aconite to change a whole story. StilesxScott ScottxStiles slash infrequent editing possible
1. Chapter 1

**This... Is my dirty secret. I've been working on this story and neglecting my HP ones... So I figured I should post it and at least show I'm still alive.**

**Diss the claim: I do not own Teen Wolf or associated media. I am not profiting from this little adventure.**

**Warning: Later slash!**

**Edit: 12/30/2012**

"_Dude_, Stiles; how did you _do_ that?" Scott nudged me in the side with his elbow as I plopped to the couch beside him, setting down a bowl of popcorn.

"What can I say? I'm a Skate XXtreme pro," I preened, conveniently sidestepping the question. I had been pushing buttons, and something happened. This is the extent of my knowledge.

"_Yeah_, you are. You should enter one of those gaming contests they have. I've heard you can win money prizes," My best friend blew some dark hair out of his chiseled face thoughtfully, "Well, so long as it doesn't interfere with lacrosse."

"Oh, of _course _not; I'd _never_ want to lose valuable _bench warming_ time," I rolled my eyes, "Now shush, movie time." Scott and I were having a boy's night in. Or rather, my dad and his mum were taking the town by storm and felt we'd be "safer" together. As a high-school-age male, _I _felt we needed no such "protection in numbers" and preferred to think of it as our boy's night in after the traumatizing events of the past day.

"I may have to get up and change my bandages in the middle of the movie," Scott warned me, pretending to resist my sudden bounce to a different idea even as he inserted the DVD into the player. "And you may need to take your Adderall."

"Change them _now_ so we don't have to later," I whined. Scott had gotten a nasty bite in the woods the previous night when we had been out looking for the other half of a recently found dead body. Really, when _I_ had gone out to look and practically _dragged_ Scott out with me... "I'll help," I added hastily to avoid sounding too much like the two year old I reverted to while off my meds. I couldn't quite remember if I'd taken them this morning, but _really_ overdosing was not an event I would _ever_ knowingly bring about, so I wasn't exactly going to pop a pill now. Besides, I probably wouldn't be able to focus long enough to count how many were left if I really wanted to be sure. Skipping one day couldn't hurt.

Scott eyed me dubiously, "And you won't poke my scabs or rip off the bandage and the skin altogether?" I really wasn't that bad, and I nodded fervently. "I still remember last time you tried to help me with an injury without your drugs…" Externally, I gave him my best shit-eating grin. Mentally, however, I conceded he had a point.

"Be prepared to get some major TLC from Doctor Stiles!" I swept a flourishing bow, "Medician extraordinaire- at your service!"

"Medician is not a word," My critic critiqued critically, folding in slightly as if to hide his wound from my amazing healing abilities.

"I'll be sure to tell the American Board of Medicians your opinion on the matter," I replied snootily, grabbing his hands away and holding them by the wrists above his head so I could pull away the bandage, "I will need to inspect the subject of our previous discussion now, sir."

"Stiles!" He protested, squirming away slightly until his movements forced the bandage off a little sooner than either of us had expected. He yelped, an almost dog like sound, and glared at me with uncompromising ire.

Whoops. "Sorry- sorry!" Like hell I'd let his arms down _now_, though. At least, not while his eyes were still broadcasting murder fantasies into my brain. "Wow, though, it looks like you're coming along really well." What had once been a semi-circle of deep puncture wounds marring the otherwise smooth skin was a thin line of scabs in a vaguely rounded pattern. "Almost _too_ well…"

"What do you mean?" Scott slipped his wrists out from my suddenly lax grip and trotted off to the bathroom to take a look. Following him, I felt my stomach complain and grabbed the bowl of popcorn on the way out. The DVD had made it to the starting menu by that point; it wasn't a self-starter, though, so I saw no harm in letting it wait. …Except maybe burning the image into the screen, but I'm pretty sure my dad had been lying about that anyway. (He wasn't). My stomach growled once more and I gave a pathetic attempt at growling back at it before I started after Scott again.

Waveringly, Scott's voice fell down the stairs, "Don't growl at yourself. It sounds stupid."

"How did you even hear that?" I opened the door to the bathroom as Scott was poking gingerly at his scabs and put the popcorn bowl down on the counter.

His eyes met mine, and there was a split second of hesitation before he replied falteringly, "I've been hearing and smelling things all day I shouldn't be able to."

"And this," I knelt down and placed my fingers at the dip in his hip just below where he had been bitten, "Is- holy shit; it's healing fast."

"I know," Scott lamented, "I don't know why either."

The skin was knitting together before my eyes and I pulled my hand away in shock- only for the accelerated healing to stop. "What in the world?"

"I don't _know_," Scott growled, sounding disturbingly animalistic and a hell of a lot more badass than my own weak growl to my stomach had been.

"No, _this_," I insisted. Scott finally looked down at the lingering scabs and smaller puncture holes.

"Did it just heal even more than it already had?" Scott wondered in a weak voice. It sounded like- oh please don't let him- "Great, I'm a freak. I have magical healing skin that goes into fits at random times and I'm hearing people outside of buildings and smelling people when they aren't there and-"

I stood and grabbed his arms in one quick motion, forcing him to look at me, "Dude! _Scott_! Snap out of it!" He stared at me in shock for a moment.

With a shake of his head like a dog expelling water Scott took in a deep breath, "Sorry. I'm good. Thanks, man."

We both looked down at the source of his breakdown only to be greeted with clear, unbroken skin. "Where did it go?" I murmured, going back down on one knee and running my fingers over the spot.

Scott did not take the discovery as well as I did. "_Where_ did it _go_?" He repeated in a groan, clutching his hair, "More like, what is it _doing_!"

"I think… Do you remember how I was kind of joking about you being bit by a werewolf?" He had heard howling, and I brushed it off because, seriously, this was California, but with his new senses and healing… Well, it didn't seem so farfetched.

"What, that lycanthropy thing?" Scott scowled, "Now is not the time to be joking, Stiles."

"I'm not joking; I'll have to do a little research, but honestly, it fits all the movies I've seen about them." I responded in an even tone, trying to make him take it more seriously. I knew I sounded a little crazy- his healing though, and hearing, that was crazy too. Once you have eliminated every possible explanation only the impossible will do, after all.

"So you think I'm, I don't know, some kind of werewolf?" His eyes rolled heavenward, "Now I _know_ you haven't taken your pills."

"Your faith in me is chilling."

"I try."

"But, come on, Scott, you have to admit it makes sense," I wheedled, looking up at him without removing my stilled fingers from the suspicious lack-of-wound he'd developed. "Enhanced smell, better hearing, accelerated healing…" Scott growled at me for a second time, "Not to mention the sudden growling habit." He didn't seem convinced as he shot daggers down at me with his eyes and I added pleadingly, "You did say you'd heard howling after you were bitten."

"Then why aren't I wolf-ing out now? Where's the fur and claws and teeth?" Scott demanded with an indistinct tremor of fear in his voice.

"The full moon's on Friday," I reminded him.

"Friday?" He repeated quizzically, as if it had triggered something in him and his brow creased. I amused myself by pondering the different ways Scott would be able to heal. Could he reattach a lost finger? "No." A hint of steel had entered his voice; "I have a date with Allison on Friday."

"On the full moon? You _have_ to reschedule, Scott!" He could hurt her, and then what would he do? Come crying to me, that's what. But would he listen to me now?

"No way!" Exactly. Scott continued, grabbing my unmoving hand from his skin, "I've finally got a date with a girl who actually _likes_ me and you want to ruin it?"

"I said reschedule, not stand up and let down, Scott. Melodrama much?" Tugging on my arm as I spoke proved futile as Scott had a firm grip on my wrist. Seems he'd been holding back before, but I didn't think much of it. Well… It stung my pride a little, if you _must_ know.

I let out an ungainly "eep" as Scott pulled me to my feet with one hand, tilting his head down a little to look me right in the eye, "I'm _going_ on this date."

"Then, I'll go with you!" I shot back, pleased at my own quick thinking, "That way if anything happens I can make up an excuse that'll fly with Allison to get you off the hook and away from the party without hurting anyone."

"I'm not going to hurt anyone!" Scott exploded, tightening his grip on my wrist and breathing heavily as his eyes flashed a strange color in the bathroom lights.

Trying to hide my wince, I soothed, or rather, babbled, "Not on purpose, but we don't know what would happen if you became some kind of wolf man thing in the middle of the party. For all you know, they'd attack and you'd _have_ to hurt them in self defense." Seeing he looked unmoved, I threw in an extra helping of guilt trip, "You're also, uh, kind of hurting me right now."

For a moment Scott was confused, and then he dropped my arm as if the sleeve covering it scalded him. He stared in vulnerable bewilderment at my newly exposed, coloring wrist and met my eyes with horror. "I'm… Stiles, I'm so-"

"Yeah. Get me an ice pack, will you?" I griped, cradling the appendage to my chest, "It'll show how sorry you are." It was a testament to his level of freaking out that he was silent still when we had seated ourselves at the kitchen table and he'd dug out an icepack from somewhere deep within my freezer.

After a while, he calmed down a bit and the soreness in my wrist ebbed. Scott spoke up with an uneasy determination, "This hasn't changed my mind. I'm still going."

"That's terrible," I deadpanned, "I've forgotten what we were talking about."

"My date with Allison."

Taking a moment to remember what we had really been arguing about, I replied in a matter of fact tone, "Then I'll be right there with you."

"No, you won't."

"Yes, I will. I'll bring my cousin."

"What would that help?" Scott asked as I moved the ice over slightly to get the cooler part on my skin.

"We could act like it was a double date," I explained patiently. Honestly, my cousin is a deprived little woman, and she would jump at the chance to go to a party. Even with me.

"With your _cousin_?"

"Hence, _act_."

"Hence, _no_."

Eventually I wore him down. Well, not to my cousin, since she lived a couple towns over, but to agree to the plan with the substitution of his cousin for mine. Rose was a sweet chick, not really my type, but still sweet. My type walked around like she owned the school with flaming red hair and luscious lips and a charm bracelet with delicate little letters spelling L-y-d-i-a…. And a boyfriend…

But enough about that. We'd decided on what to do!

Which of course meant I would force him through another scary movie with me. Why were we hanging out if not to scare each other half to death by creeping up on one another in the middle of the night and whispering one of the killers' catch phrases? Sure, Scott may or may not have been infected with lycanthropy, but that didn't mean I was going to let this "bro time" go down the toilet. I had a day or two until the full moon to worry about that. Or at least I was pretty sure I did.

The next day at school went by pretty normally. I pined after Lydia; Scott flirted clumsily with Allison; the teachers droned, providing pleasant background noises that Scott suddenly couldn't _stop_ listening to (It was fun to whisper his name in a crowded hallway and watch his head snap up)… In fact, lacrosse practice after school was going relatively well, up until Jackson, the captain, knocked down Scott while he was playing goalie. With a burst of speed, the crosse almost seemed to blur as Scott caught shot after shot. It was only when Coach called for the end of practice that I realized his eyes had changed. They were a shiny new yellow color I had every intention of freaking out about later.

"Hey, uh, Scott," I grabbed his arm and moved him towards the mirrors, "I need to show you something." Glancing around at the thus far empty locker room, I gestured at the mirror and whispered, "Your eyes changed color."

"That's just the light, Stiles." Strange, he sounded very calm. At least, much calmer than he had been on the field.

"They're bright yellow!"

His voice was wry, "They're _brown_."

I turned and tugged his face towards mine with both hands. "…They _are_. What happened?"

Scott crinkled his nose, "Personal space, Stiles? Are you hyped up on Adderall?" I realized I could feel his breath on my lips and jerked back about half a foot.

"First not enough and now too much?" I grumbled. It wasn't my fault ADHD was treated with the equivalent of speed. "But listen to me, I _saw _your eyes change!"

"You probably just saw the sun flashing off them," Scott returned with a grin, "Though why you pay so much attention to my lovely eyes is up for debate." He fluttered his stubbly dark lashes at me and I hit him in the shoulder with a closed fist. Ignoring his laughter, I changed in relative silence. Why wasn't he listening to me? Couldn't he tell something was wrong? He'd said so himself in the woods the other day! Lycanthropy was the only thing that fit all his symptoms. My eyes flitted surreptitiously over my oblivious best friend. It didn't escape my attention that he'd stopped using his inhaler, either. _Something_  
was going on. I just had to convince the epicenter of this storm of "something" of that fact. Scott, the lowdown dog that he is, took advantage of my momentary distraction, "Bye-Stiles-gotta-run-Allison's-waiting," to escape and hunt down his hapless victim.

Still, just because the wolf seemed to have been closer to the surface during a sport didn't mean he'd, for lack of a better term, wolf out before the full moon, right? "Yeah, _bye_ Scott," I muttered to the room filling with the sounds of the rest of the team finally filtering in as I slammed my locker door shut.

"Whoa, serious anger issues there, little dude," Peter, the biggest member of the team, patted me on the head before I could dodge his descending meaty paws.

"Thanks, Peter, just- thanks." I replied, exasperated at his attempts to calm me, "I needed _another_ reminder that you are, in fact, taller than anyone else here."

Peter patted my shoulder this time, "It's alright if you don't want to talk about it."

Peter is infuriating.

I hurried out of the locker room- I had something important to research.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf nor have any affiliation with it, and I am not making the moolah off this story.**

**Edit: 12/30/2012**

**Last time:**

_I hurried out of the locker room- I had something important to research._

Something important to research, my foot. Half the info on werewolves had nothing to do with Scott's situation! The other half, though, it looked somewhat promising. The site that most closely followed Scott's situation warned that any kind of stress could trigger a change. Well, maybe the date wasn't such a good idea after all.

"Stiles! Scott's here!" My dad shouted up the stairs, "See you tonight!" Seems like Scott caught Dad on his way out the door.

Scott loped into my room and fell gracelessly onto my bed with the dopiest grin he'd ever had stretching from ear to ear. "Your dad says there's Chinese in the fridge," he relayed dreamily.

I hit print on the most relevant articles, "And that's why you're acting like someone gave you a 'fun-time' dose of marijuana?" Turning dramatically in my awesome swivel chair, I handed Scott the papers, "Here. Research."

"Are you labeling it or commanding me?" Scott laughed, "And no, I'm not happy because of bok choy…"

"Labeling. So, please tell me you just won the lotto because if I hear one more word about how perfect Allison is-"

"She _is_ perfect, isn't she?

"Oh, my _God_."

Ignoring the information I'd scoured high and low for, Scott proceeded to fill me in on all the amazing little bits about Allison I had no desire to learn in this lifetime or the next. Or he tried to as I surfed the web and looked up werewolf pictures.

Scott was murmuring, "And her hair is so _soft_; it smells so distinctly of _her_, too and-" when I discovered the grossest werewolf picture known to man.

Disregarding whatever Scott was blabbering on about, I turned the computer screen towards Scott, "Dude, do you think you'll look like _this_ on the full moon?"

"I- What?" Scott leaned in without really knowing what he was about to see.

It had, like, tusks. And bulging muscles with veins like thin metal cords, as well as mangy-looking fur coating its all-too-naked body. "Because honestly," I confided, "I would stay really far away from you around the full moon if that's an accurate image."

"Stiles," Scott started incredulously, one hand on the side of the computer screen, "I'm _not _a werewolf!"

"Scott, why won't you just accept it? What else could be going on?" Really, what else? Oh, maybe he's a _vampire_ now. Wait. I fixed him with the gravest look I could muster, "You're not a vampire, are you?"

"Stiles!"

"What! You could be!"

He pushed me "lightly" away and I hit the arm of my chair, "I'm not a _vampire,_ Stiles!"

"I guess you _didn't_ burn in the sunlight…" I summarized sullenly, rubbing my sore side. "But you _do_ underestimate your strength a lot."

Scott's face contorted as he was torn between guilt and anger and he reached out a hand for my shoulder. When he hit skin, however (I was wearing a sleeveless shirt), he jerked back. "…What?"

"I don't know, what?" I repeated in exasperation, watching the shifting of his facial features as they responded to whatever tumultuous war of emotions was going on within him.

"I…" He grabbed my shoulder with slightly more force, and his face cleared entirely.

"…Scott, what's going on?" If I didn't get some answers soon, I was going to implode. Mysterious silences do not bode well for Stiles… es… Stiles-es… I'll work on it later.

"I'm calm," He muttered, then removed his hand and his expression twisted again, "Now I'm not calm."

I grabbed his wrist when it descended for another round of squeeze Stiles' shoulder and speak cryptically, "Scott! Tell me what's going on!"

The creases in his expression smoothed over again and I could actually see his muscles relax, "You make me calm."

"Wha- I-" I sucked in my lips for a moment in thought, then cocked my head in confusion. "Thank you?"

"Wait, I mean," Scott struggled for a second to find the words to explain what exactly he meant, "When I touch you, it's like- like something about it _forces _me to be calm."

It sounded plausible from how he was acting, but I could already see some discontinuities, "You were freaking out a night ago, and I was touching your wound."

"You were touching my skin when it healed, too," Scott continued as if to himself, "Maybe you can either heal _or_ calm? But not at the same time?"

"Scott," I began, on the verge of panicking myself with Scott seeming so zen and unruffled, "Are you saying I have some sort of magic calming healing Gandhi power?"

"So, _I'm_ not a werewolf, _you're_ some ESP guy," Scott rationalized with his eerie tranquility.

"Your senses are still suddenly better," I reminded him in a tone bordering that of a whine. If I had ESP, Scott had bloody better have ESP with me. I was not going down that path alone. "You probably have some sort of extrasensory perception, too, then."

"I'm fine with that." _Yeah, _now_. Just wait until you get out of my calming circle of influence. Or something._ Scott was staring at me as if he'd never seen me before in his life. I had never felt more like some strange animal around him than in that moment.

"I still think you're a werewolf," I warned him, "You should reschedule your date with Allison tomorrow."

"I'm not rescheduling."

"Then I'm not leaving you two alone."

Scott rolled his eyes. Oh, sure; _he's_ allowed to be melodramatic any time he so pleases, but one hint of drama from me and it's all "Did you take your Adderall?" or, even worse, "Did you take _too much_ Adderall?"

Like I would take too much Adderall. More than once. Or twice. Or…. Well, I hadn't this time!

I returned my attention to Scott's even tone as he continued; "I'll wear a short sleeve shirt, then."

A short sleeve shirt? How would that help against the inevitable wolfing out under the full moon? His fur would be more visible? I summarized my thoughts in one fell swoop, "How would that do _anything_?" Scott attempted to explain, but I cut him off, "No, actually, how is that even relevant?!"

"You can't calm yourself with your power, I see," He grinned, "But if you're so worried about me hurting someone in a rage, then wearing a short sleeve shirt means you can just grab my arm and I'll calm down."

Mulling it over, I released his wrist and Scott, apparently toting the aftereffects of my calming touch, plopped down on my bed to read the research I'd been doing.

"This bit, here, proves I'm not a werewolf," Scott pointed out a paragraph summarizing the deadly effects of silver on a werewolf's system, "My mum wears a silver cross at all times. I can't _not_ come into contact with it."

"Yeah, but, in this article," I rummaged through the papers and came up with the correct reference, "It says differently." We spent a good part of the night cross checking different articles with Scott picking out the bits that didn't quite fit while I found their matching counterarguments. Around 12, my dad came home and suggested Scott either remove himself from the premises or call his mother to ask if he could stay over since it was already so late. Almost needless to say, Scott called his mum and she firmly told him he should have come home earlier. …However, since he was already here, she'd feel safer if he just stayed put rather than wander the streets in the dark of night on his lonesome. Especially since she didn't want to have to drive over and pick him up.

After all, she had the car right then.


	3. Chapter 3

**Diss the claim: This portrayal of Teen Wolf characters is mostly protected under the Fair Use Act, plus, I'm not making any of the moneys off of this story.**

**(Edited: 2/16/2013)**

**Last time:**

_We spent a good part of the night cross checking different articles with Scott picking out the bits that didn't quite fit while I found their matching counterarguments. Around 12, my dad came home and suggested Scott either remove himself from the premises or call his mother to ask if he could stay over since it was already so late. Almost needless to say, Scott called his mum and she firmly told him he should have come home earlier. …However, since he was already here, she'd feel safer if he just stayed put rather than wander the streets in the dark of night on his lonesome. Especially since she didn't want to have to drive over and pick him up._

_After all, she had the car right then._

My alarm clock was blaring almost before I knew I'd fallen asleep. Scott and I lay sprawled over and around my bed with papers scattered uselessly across the bed sheets, his fingers curled around my wrist and a piece of paper glued by drool to his chin. I jerked my arm out of his reach, still remembering how the other had gotten bruised.

Just a second after that, Scott jumped up, the paper comically slapping him in the face with each movement- at least until he tore it off and crouched down to the floor with his face in his hands.

"…Scott?" I approached him cautiously, letting one hand rest on his shoulder. His entire body participated in a shudder of relief, and I absently noted he'd somehow become more toned since the bite. …Maybe he should put a shirt on before my dad saw the difference.

_I need Adderall._

"Wow," Scott gasped with an odd shake of his head like a dog expelling water, "That was trippy."

"What happened?" Actually, come to think of it, didn't he have his shirt on when I fell asleep?

"Bad dream," He breathed out, the air coming more easily as he stood and I allowed my hand to drop to the side, "I'm fine, now."

Spreading my arms magnanimously, I grinned with all the showmanship I could muster, "You're welcome!" Come to think of it, _I _had a shirt on when I fell asleep!

A strange gleam came into Scott's eye for a moment, but he shook his head and it was gone. Surprisingly, he took my open arms as invitation and moved in for a short hug, "Yeah, thanks dude." Releasing me with a clap on the back, he wandered over to his discarded shirt hanging on my office chair, and then paused with it in his hand. Turning, he quirked a brow at me, "Didn't you have your shirt on when you fell asleep?"

"I _know_!" I groaned, dragging fingers down my cheeks in exasperation,

"I've been wondering about that all _morning_!"

"Well I know you were asleep before I was," He mused, folding his shirt. Out of the blue, he barked out a laugh, "and _I_ definitely didn't do it."

I eyed him speculatively; _this'll be sure to get a rise. _"I'm _sure_."

"What does that mean?" Scott muttered; his smile dropped as he did the same into my chair. I made a show of shrugging as I too-coolly-to-be-coolly browsed the shirts in my closet. "_Stiles_, what do you mean?"

I looked at him smugly over my shoulder, one hand still on a hanger, "What do you _think_ I mean?" However I wasn't looking at him across the room anymore because he was looming over me in a way that just was not right for someone around the same height as me. "Scott, what are you doing?" No, my voice did not break… Much. I may have twittered out one or two nervous laughs. He didn't answer, instead placing a hand on the wall above my head so he could lean in further, blotting out the weak light of my second hand lamp.

It's a pretty cool lamp, I decorated it with- no! Focus, Stiles!

"It isn't fair," He finally whispered with an edge of frost.

"Dude, a little space?" I backed a little into the wall, but Scott just followed, "What isn't fair?" I could feel the burning heat of his rage-filled body in what little space was between us. If I could just get a hold of his arm…

"That I have to get creative with my revenge, since I can't just tackle you if I want to stay mad," Scott snickered, snapping his teeth together on the air right next to my ear. The next second he exclaimed, "Oh my god, your _face!_" and laughed helplessly as I leaned against the wall, attempting to process what just happened.

"You _jerk_," I accused, fighting the grin that was pulling at my lips.

"No, _you_ jerk," Scott shot back, still laughing, "Who's the one who accused whom of molesting them in their sleep?"

"I never said that." I let the grin free, pushing him a little away from me and he glanced up with cheeks flushed from laughter, "Guilty conscience, much?"

"You know you want it," Scott joked, "I'm the star of the lacrosse team!"

I tossed a blue shirt at him from the closet, delivering in a monotone, "Oh yes, take me now, you manly stud, you." Scott's face turned bright red as he struggled to breathe through his laughter.

"You better not be talking about what I think you're talking about," an older male voice put in from the doorway. I whirled around only to see my dad leaning on the door with a cross between a smirk and a grimace battling across his visage.

Scott's laughter died and his blush blossomed all the way across his ears as he registered exactly what had been said. I opened my mouth to protest, but Scott's words stumbled right over mine, "I- No- I would never- I mean, not that Stiles isn't attractive- I mean, not to me, but to- even if he was- to me- I wouldn't take advantage of him like- You know- I couldn't ever-" The Sheriff stood solidly in the door, but his eyes were merry and his posture light and unburdened as Scott rambled on. _He was having us on._

I couldn't help the snickering, no matter how cruel it may seem, "Just stop, Scott. He's pulling your leg, dude." Scott twitched, and I threw my arm around his shoulders, almost instantly seeing his fists relax. "You're real funny, Dad, but you can't break apart our friendship with your foul schemes!" Not my best line, but I needed cover. Badly. Apparently Scott had no more patience for others' jokes at his expense any more.

He shook his head and turned to leave the room, "Don't be late to school."

"Got it!" I called, closing the door as soon as he was clear. Shuffling around, I pulled out a black tee and held it against myself for review, "Do you think your cousin would like this?"

I had actually had to leap on Scott once before the day was up. School before the full moon was apparently more taxing than usual, since Scott was flashing yellow at anything that so much as looked at him the wrong way.

Suspicions confirmed- he's a werewolf.

_And what am I?_

Not to be self-centered or anything, but my skill seemed considerably less cool than being a werewolf, and I spent the day sort of down about it. Especially since the stupid thing didn't even work on anyone else.

"Maybe it only works on animals," I grumbled.

Scott let one eyebrow rise above the other, but dropped the issue. "Have you and Rose decided on a time, yet?"

"She told me she'd meet me there at eight, hung up, and now she's not answering my calls," I admitted, "I think she doesn't like me."

"Rose likes _everyone_," Scott snorted, closing his locker with a clang.

Honestly. A clang. His locker echoed and reechoed in the hallway without any of the bustling crowd seeming the wiser.

Teenagers.

"No, see," Our feet matched pace as we pushed through to the exit, "she sounded like she was crying whenever she spoke to me."

"Crying?" Scott frowned, "Maybe her allergies are acting-"

"Scott!" A tranquil brunette inserted herself into our crowd-free bubble. She smiled at me around Scott and held out a hand, "And you must be Stiles! I'm Allison."

"It's nice to meet the girl I've heard so much about," I took her hand and, instead of shaking it like she expected, used it to reel her in so I could continue with an even graver face (it looks better up close), "_So_ much."

"Uh-" She looked at Scott for guidance, but he was a little busy glaring daggers at me to notice her predicament.

"Dude!" He hissed, "Not cool!"

"Oh, _calm_ down," I snickered, holding up my bare hand to be admired for its awesome powers while coincidentally releasing Allison.

Scott was not impressed. "I don't think I like you right now."

I struck my most seductive pose, "You know you love me."

Allison laughed, "Oh, hot." I mimed licking my finger and placing it on my hip with a hissing sound.

"You know it's only _his_ nerdiness that keeps all the girls from noticing me," I informed her, linking arms with the girl and walking away from Scott, "I'm a nerd by association."

"Scott's a nerd?" Allison giggled, sending flirty looks back at Scott as he followed us to the street. Scott eventually caught up and the three of us chatted until a car pulled up and Allison ran off, explaining that it was her dad and teasing that she expected Scott no later than 7:30 PM.

She dropped a kiss on his cheek before she left and his eyes glowed steadily yellow for a good five minutes. He didn't come down from cloud nine for another twenty. At six, we went our separate ways to prepare for the dance.

I went through the usual- shower, cologne, nice clothes, handcuffs, brush the hair for the first time in a week… What? I don't have time usually- oh yeah, the handcuffs. Just in case, you know, calming powers don't work on full out wolf-y men. So Scott doesn't _kill_ the mood. Or something else.

It took me a few seconds to get my slightly hysterical laughter under control.


	4. Chapter 4

**Diss the claim: I do not own Teen Wolf.**

**Last time:**

_I went through the usual- shower, cologne, nice clothes, handcuffs, brush the hair for the first time in a week… What? I don't have time usually- oh yeah, the handcuffs. Just in case, you know, calming powers don't work on full out wolf-y men. So Scott doesn't kill the mood. Or something else._

_ It took me a few seconds to get my slightly hysterical laughter under control._

At seven, someone knocked and I ran out the door, swooned into Scott's waiting arms and-

No, actually, at seven Scott honked twice, I teased him about "picking up his date first" until I had to physically hold his wrist to calm him down, and we arrived at Allison's house.

Scott tried to stop me when I began to unbuckle my seatbelt and I looked at him questioningly. "It's not cool to bring your friend up to the door when you're picking up your date!" He explained, eyes darting up to said door as if it were his last and final obstacle in Skate Xxtreme.

"No, Scott, of course that's totally cool. Just as cool as letting your date ride in the back." I stared him down until he realized what I meant.

"Oh," He let go of my hand and blushed, "I thought-"

"Try not to do that," I teased, getting out of the car, "Just stand there and look pretty while I do the deep stuff." Luckily, I closed the door to the back seat in time and Scott retreated to get Allison instead of continuing his charge through the car's window.

She was something, I admit. Not as beautiful as Lydia, of course, but close. Didn't even really have to get dolled up. Her smile was radiant as she got into the passenger seat. I shrunk down in the back to be as unobtrusive and unnoticeable as possible. It was quite an effort; I even timed our seatbelt clicks in near unison.

Then Scott had to ruin it. Of course, the awkward silence in the front was getting old by the halfway point.

"Did Stiles mention he was in the back, or is he lurking silently _without_ your knowledge?" Scott feebly joshed, jerking a thumb in my direction. I mimed biting it off.

"Stiles is back-?" She turned and got a good look at my snapping jaw before bursting into giggles, "Do _you_ know what he's threatening your thumb with?"

I threw another snap for Scott's benefit as he glanced in the rearview mirror. He jerked his hand back, then rapped my nose lightly, "Bad Stiles."

I grinned as the two in the front laughed together, the tension destroyed. I expected them to finally start chatting each other up and move on to a more date-like atmosphere, but Allison dashed my hopes.

"Have you two been friends a long time?"

Scott grinned without taking his eyes from the road, "Too long."

"Hey!" I glared at the back of his head, "I'll wreak my vengeance when you're not driving."

"But seriously," Scott continued, "We've been friends since before I can remember."

"Really?" Allison turned slightly to try and incorporate me in the conversation, "So you don't even remember meeting?"

"Nope," Scott shook his head.

"Actually, I remember it." I volunteered, surprising myself at this willful encouragement of the tangent. I almost backed out of it, but Allison was watching me with querying soulful brown eyes and Scott's ears actually seemed to perk up. Whatever floats their boat, I guess. "When we were three, I think- I got the age from your mom- our parents had each taken us to the park and Dad lost me on the way."

"Oh wow," Allison drawled.

Scott snorted, "He would've, back then."

"Yeah, yeah, no interruptions!" I fixed them both with a mock evil eye. "As I was _saying_, Dad lost me. Mom panicked and started running everywhere we had already been while Dad called his police buddies. Meanwhile, I had made my way safely to the park and I spotted this kid sitting alone on the swings."

"A handsome kid?" Scott prompted, sensing where I was going with this.

"Ugly as a rock," I retorted. "So anyway, there I am, feeling as lonely as the kid looked, and I made the kind of split second decision I can only make on the wrong dosage of Adderall." Both teens in the front replied with a sort of choking laugh. "I snuck up behind him, and pushed him as high as I could! He fell off and started gasping. How was I supposed to know he was resting from an asthma attack?" I assume the expression of indignant self-righteousness I knowingly cultivated was more realistic than I gave it credit for, because Allison simply couldn't keep a straight face when she looked at me. "I ran over and tried to give him CPR until his mom sprinted there and gave him his inhaler."

"CPR?" Scott laughed, "I was having an asthma attack and you started pounding on my chest?"

"Well actually, it would be better to say I tried to give you mouth-to-mouth resuscitation," I admitted with a shrug.

Allison really needed to stop for a second and breathe between laughing fits. Her method of laughing could not _possibly_ be healthy.

Meanwhile, Scott actually almost ran us off the road before he swerved dangerously and returned us to the center of the lane. "You did _what_?"

"I'm sorry, Allison," I stated somberly, "You won't be his first kiss."

Scott's eyes were wide in shock as he drove mechanically. I was starting to understand why Scott's mom had thought it would be a bad idea to tell him that particular story any time soon. My fears were, however, assuaged when he belatedly joined Allison in an inhumanly long laughing spasm.

We spent the rest of the trip sharing embarrassing stories about one another with Allison, who seemed more than happy to stick to the topic.

The first half hour of the party was somewhat fun. I relentlessly worked to give the couple some "alone time" but either one or the other would pull me back before I could slip into the crowd.

"Just until your date gets here," they would say with a grin.

However, after that half an hour came another half an hour and I began to suspect she wasn't _going_ to get there.

"I'm going to go get some punch," I shouted over the din of the music.

"Get me one?" Allison gestured to herself and I nodded, moving towards the refreshment table. Werewolf trouble had not reared its ugly head, and I felt almost foolish for having been so insistent that the full moon would do anything. I mean, werewolves? How would a man turning into a wolf be physically possible? The Chemistry teacher spent enough time hammering into my head that different animals have different chemical mixes in their system when I tried to substitute- …well- it's not important. I knew different animals had different chemicals and things.

When I turned around, Allison was dancing closely to Scott, her arms loosely around his neck and Scott was glancing uneasily in the direction of Jackson essentially defiling Lydia with their clothes on. Great. I can't believe she would lower herself to that. I would bet anything she just gave in this once so Jackson would stop bugging her about it. He's such a dick.

A shout from the dance floor caught my attention as Scott doubled over in pain, clutching his head. "Scott?" Allison moved forward in concern, but using my incredible adrenaline-fueled skills, I dove through the crowd and pulled her back just in time. She looked at me with a little fear in her eyes, "What's wrong with him?"

"Uh, his heart beat too fast with you and now he's having an asthma attack?" Why, oh, why did that come out sounding like a question? "I need to get him home. He refused to bring his inhaler tonight because he didn't want you to think he was a loser."

"Oh, um-" Allison hedged, "I guess I'll go with. Can you drop me off at home once Scott's okay?"

I already had a hold of Scott's arm but all it seemed to do was keep him quiet as the pain wracked his body, so I wasn't sure leaving him alone was the best idea. The split second of hesitation was all Lydia needed to flounce in angelically as my saviour. It appeared the minor commotion involving Allison had attracted her attention.

"We can get her home; can't we, Jackson?" Lydia volunteered, dodging dancers to drape an arm around Allison's shoulders, "Okay?"

"Great," I took a cue from their position and pulled Scott's arm over my shoulder, half carrying him out to the car and tossing him into the passenger's seat. I hopped into the driver's seat and patted my pocket. "Okay, I think I have my license…" It wasn't in either of my front pockets but it was possible I had it in one of the back ones…

After a bit of fiddling around for my missing license, Scott had had enough and ground out in an animalistic growl, "_Drive_, Stiles."

"But my dad's the sheriff!"

"Stiles?" Scott was much closer than I was comfortable with and- were those _fangs_ coming out of his mouth? Yes, they were. He _was_ a werewolf. Why wasn't I feeling triumphant? His pointy incisors almost brushed against my ear as he whispered threateningly, "You need to get me _out of here_."

The car was in gear and down the street like lightening. Speed limits had no hold on me today. "On the plus side, you look really cool," I offered as offhandedly as possible, driving into the forest.

"The woods?" He questioned tersely, his fangs muffling his meaning and adding an odd slur to his words. The yellow flash of his eyes was inhumanly bright and I redirected my gaze to the road as I parked the car.

"Isolated," I explained, jumping at every shadow while I helped him out. Suddenly he pitched forward, clutching my arm and shirt for balance and _roared_. My hands rose to his arms to steady him of their own accord, and the contact seemed to soothe the worst of the pain. Unfortunately, that's all it did. Shining yellow eyes in a nearly familiar face met mine and just as quickly Scott drove me backwards until I was pinned against a pine tree by his abruptly exaggerated weight.

His nose nudged my neck. _Oh my _God_ my best friend is going to _kill me_ because I can't heal him and calm him at the same time_. _Ahh, he's too strong to push off and too fast to escape without getting bitten!_ Just as I had closed my eyes, resigned to my fate, Scott drew a deep snuffling breath against my skin and nuzzled into the crook of my neck with a contented sigh. _The pain must have stopped._ My frazzled mind informed me, but I couldn't quite make heads or tails of this data until my train of thought snapped back into position. _I can calm him but I can't completely stop the transformation?_

After a few awkward minutes with Scott's clawed fingers running up and down my arm, I attempted to pull gently away. "Gently," however, does not even register in the resistance section of the Werewolf Almanac's strength chapter, and it would've seemed like wolfy Scott took no notice of it if he hadn't abruptly tightened his grip and pulled me to the ground. I did put up a valiant struggle but the wolf was not releasing its newly captured prey until it was darn ready and willing to. After some confusing manipulations on Scott's part, I ended up sitting next to my furry buddy on the pine needles and under his arm.

Well, this was all I'd been hoping for this weekend. No, this could possibly be the dream career I'd been looking for. I could see the conversation with the counselor now. _Oh, no, Mr. O'Connell, I actually am dropping math for companion animal studies. My reason? Oh, I thought it'd come in handy in my future job as a werewolf teddy bear. No, the pay isn't all that great but I only have to work once a month._ That'd go over well.

After a long, long period of silence- wait, scratch that… After a few moments of the most uncomfortable silence of my life, I gathered my courage and nervously squeaked, "So, this is great, right?" Scott rumbled in a way I assumed was questioning, so I continued, "You know, just uh, hanging out, in the woods, alone, me and your razor sharp teeth, I mean-" Scott's expression was unchanging and I prayed that meant he was beyond human comprehension at that moment- otherwise known as: that he hadn't understood a word I said. Trailing off without finishing my sentence, I tried to focus on the different constellations I could identify. Well, really, I looked for the big dipper since that's about the extent of my expertise when it comes to stars. It was increasingly hard to ignore Scott's arm about my shoulders, though, when he kept tracing patterns with his claws on my upper arm. The leaves obscured my view of the moon, but the stars that peeked between them twinkled smugly at my distress. I could imagine the moon was laughing its ass off at the trouble it had caused tonight. At least Allison didn't think Scott was a freak and was probably home safe right now. She was a nice chick. Nice rack, too- no, Stiles; a different kind of distraction…

I could easily say I was a little jealous of their relationship. They must just click. But… Thinking back on their stilted conversation, I hadn't really seen any evidence of it tonight. Maybe it was just me. My presence interrupted their flow or something?

Yeah, I'm pretty sure Allison and he had been talking pretty animatedly the other day. Then again, Scott _had_ had his arm around her right then and, as I was experiencing, that seemed to have some sort of relaxing effect since- despite the dangers of it- I was close to falling asleep.

My head began to nod and even though I knew the wolf in Scott might read into it, I let myself lean into the embrace, my head falling onto his shoulder.

"I wonder if there's any bit of human-y Scott still in you right now," I murmured to the forcibly placid werewolf. Lucky, that. Whatever these powers were, they certainly had a good sense of timing.

I was musing over that when Scott's arm jerked around me, pulling me half into his lap while he growled at what appeared to be a leaf falling to the ground.

Weird. A falling leaf this early- wait a minute. Scott growled? I wasn't keeping him calm anymore?

As Scott kept me to his chest I quietly began to panic.

"Release the kid, Scott!" The shout seemed to bend a little as if the source were moving toward us at a high speed and something about it tweaked at my memory. Wolf Scott's teeth were very shiny as he bared them menacingly in the direction of the man's voice. He stood and I had little to no choice but to stand with him. Oh, the humility of being confined by another guy with no chance of breaking free. I needed to start working out more. Or get bitten. _No,_ wait- "Kid, listen up; I think he's too far gone to understand right now, so I'm going to need you to be very calm and try not to freak out about your friend's change." Unfortunately for him, he chose that moment to step into the light, and as the shadows fell away from Derek Hale's face, I let out a tiny expletive and backed further into Scott's chest. Of course, my pal took this as choosing his side in the dominance fight or whatever he saw a confrontation as and he pressed his cheek happily against the side of my neck, keeping wary, yellow eyes on Hale the entire time.

Stupid wolf habits.

Stupid me.

Stupid Derek Hale surprising me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Diss the claim: Do not own. Do not profit.**

**Last time:**

_Unfortunately for him, he chose that moment to step into the light, and as the shadows fell away from Derek Hale's face, I let out a tiny expletive and backed further into Scott's chest. Of course, my pal took this as choosing his side in the dominance fight or whatever he saw a confrontation as and he pressed his cheek happily against the side of my neck, keeping wary, yellow eyes on Hale the entire time._

_Stupid wolf habits._

_Stupid me._

_Stupid Derek Hale surprising me._

Said ex-inhabitant of our fair city was eyeing Scott with a significant amount of unease. "Has he been like this the whole time?"

"Been like what, the whole time what?" I parroted before I could help myself. Shaking my head, I backtracked to the really important question, "And why aren't _you _freaking out? What do you know about all this, anyway?"

"I _am_ a werewolf, too, and- dammit, we have to leave," Running forward at a speed I couldn't fully register mainly due to disbelief, Hale grabbed my arm and pulled me along. Scott, needless to say, gave chase. What else is a dog without a toy to do?

Voices in the background gave me pause for a second, but Hale was essentially moving me through the air rather than leading me on my own two feet, so there was no way for me to stop. Scott suddenly dropped with a yelp, holding his shoulder as he shrank behind us.

"Wait, we have to help him!" I shouted at my fleeing abductor, struggling against the iron strong grip he had on my arm.

"Not you!" The elder man hissed, throwing me unceremoniously ahead of him with the whispered direction, "RUN!"

Not that I'd listen with my best friend in danger. Or at least, I didn't until an arrow zipped so close to my skull I could feel what hair I had sway in its wake. I was off _like_ that arrow in a second. Not too long after, I heard pounding feet behind me and redoubled my speed. My breath was falling into familiar patterns as the "correct running technique" Coach pounded into us took over. In the end, it was the darkness that doomed me. My foot hit something awkwardly and I flew forward, landing in a sprawl across the dirt, needles, and leaves coating the forest floor. Detangling myself, I tried to spring up, but another body crashed into mine and we skidded another couple of feet.

"Ow," I moaned as Scott rolled off my back with a surprisingly human expression.

"Sorry," He offered a conciliatory hand up to my feet, "At least you didn't get shot?"

"You're you again?" I asked inanely as he helped me stand. Quickly realizing my mistake, I amended, "Not that you stopped being you, but I mean, you're human-y-looking again?"

Hale actually groaned at my sentence structure. Like I was causing him _pain._ Scott, however, had the decency to ignore my grammatical issues and answer the question. "Hale said enough pain snaps us out of it."

"Out of the furriness?" I questioned honestly.

Hale snorted irritably, "What are you, a third grader? We don't have time for this. Scott, we need to leave the area."

I pointed at the dark haired man with a scowl. "You," I decided, "I don't like you."

"I don't _need_ you," Hale snarled with a flash of blue eyes as he got in my face, "to _like_ me." I was close enough to bite the man's nose off and the thought crossed my mind that it wouldn't even be that difficult.

"Hey, man," Scott pushed Hale back a bit with a little eye flashing of his own, "Leave Stiles out of this." Really, with all the mystical eye-flashing going around, I was starting to feel a little out of the loop.

"He _would _be 'left out of this' if you had never _told_ him," Hale accused, turning on Scott. "Now we _need_ to get going. Those hunters will be right on our tail." He swept dramatically away and we had no viable option but to scramble after him.

"I actually figured it out _before_ he did," I mumbled under my breath, wishing I could cross my arms over my chest as I picked my stumbling way hastily through the foliage. Hale was getting ahead of both of us since Scott was sticking to my human speed instead of rushing after him.

"Real great defense of your friend, kid," Hale called back. Scott said nothing, still holding his arm.

I gestured back in the general direction we'd come from, ignoring Hale's jibe entirely in favor of whatever was going on with Scott. "What happened back there?" Scott pulled his hand away so I could see the blood seeping from his shoulder. So that's what that 'at least, you didn't get shot' comment was about.

"Shit!"

Hale glanced back at my exclamation and Scott jumped a little, coming to a halt beside me.

"How are you walking around with that?" I cried, moving forward, "Give me your hand or wrist or something." The grabby gestures I was making with my own hands were not helping to get the point across and I about twitched with frustration, "Healing touch, remember?"

The confusion eased from Scott's face and, unexpectedly, he took my hand in his, "We should keep walking though."

I looked apprehensively at our joined hands, but nodded, "That's kind of what I had in mind."

The unpleasant tromp through the foliage was made less pleasant by Hale's longwinded explanations of how he and Scott were brothers, now, as well as of the hunters behind us and what lay ahead of us (or rather, Scott), winding up with the little fact he should have started with: he did not turn Scott or kill the girl they found in the woods. That poor victim had in fact been his sister, and she had also been a werewolf. Hale's snarl that if anyone had killed her, it was the hunters we'd nearly managed to lose just minutes before sent shivers down my spine and fully convinced me that he had cared about his sister too much to have been her murderer.

About half way through the trip, Scott began to mellow and I suspected his wound had healed. Three fourths of the way through the trip, my fingers started to fidget; Scott still hadn't released them from his evil clutches, even if those evil clutches felt really good… I did not just think that. As we neared a burned looking house in the middle of a random forest clearing with a path to the main road, I wondered how a man so calm could have such an unyielding hold. On the plus side I hadn't fallen again and Scott mostly led me around obstacles I couldn't see as the moon dimmed in a strange way (there had been only one unfortunate tree trunk my forehead had had the pleasure of getting to know better). It was only after the third weird stare from Hale that Scott caught the drift of our combined messages and dropped my hand like a hot potato.

"S-sorry," He stammered through an obscuring haze of blush, "Must be a wolf thing."

"Contact." Astonishingly enough, Hale backed him up, and with no little distaste on his part, "You must view him as part of your familial pack even though he's not one of us."

"I have _so_ had enough wolf lessons today," I sighed, sitting on the dilapidated front porch and stretching my crying legs out before me. Poor things weren't used to being abused with such uneven footing as the forest provided.

"Me too," Scott grumbled, joining me on the deck without any stretching necessary on his part even if he was still sporting some extra color in his cheeks. Darn his superior wolf muscles.

"This isn't actually supposed to be possible, you know," Hale continued with a hint of steel in his voice, "You were _entirely_ taken over by the wolf, and Stiles could have been in serious danger if it weren't for some sort of very potent dumb luck."

Turns out Hale's a lecturer. Also, "You know my name?" I pulled my legs up onto the deck and moved away from the edge in a scuttling crab walk that Scott viewed with an amused snigger at my expense.

"I may have researched Scott's situation."

The too-calm tone pricked at something and I couldn't stop the so-stupid-it's-criminal part of me that seems to enjoy being in deep water from blurting, "You mean, you _stalked_ him?"

For a moment there was dead silence.

_And that's what I'm going to be. Dead._

I whimpered.

Hale turned to Scott, pointing at me with an out-flung arm, "Don't bring him here again. He makes me feel ugly things."

"Again?" Scott echoed, ignoring the threat to my well being the way any best friend would.

"You need to learn to control the wolf, and to remember what you do when you're completely taken over," Hale had hopped up onto the deck and opened the door to the house, "Come back tomorrow two hours before noon." He clomped dramatically inside, the door creaking shut behind him in a way that _screamed_ 'condemned.'

After I thought he was out of hearing range, I whispered, "He couldn't have just said ten?"

"No!" Hale's shout took me by surprise and I leapt off the deck.

Laughing, Scott jumped up and made his way towards the main road, "Come on. It's going to be a long walk back if we don't start soon."

I draped myself over his back. "Help meee," I whined, "I'm a poor little human. I need someone to take care of me." I was not entirely shocked when Scott jerked me off with a snicker.

We got back safely, if not soundly, and Scott waved tiredly at my father, beginning to jog quicker as he passed my house and I dragged myself up the steps.

Feeling like every bone in my body had liquefied, I played a rousing- read: exhausting- game of twenty questions with my father and, when he was satisfied with his interrogation, oozed my boneless way up to my room. The adrenaline must have worn off with a vengeance because I fell asleep before I made it to my bed, lolling across the floor with one arm extended towards my ultimate destination. It was lucky for me that there was no school tomorrow.

Though, you know, my luck has always had ways of balancing itself out.


	6. Chapter 6

**Diss the claim: No, I do not own Teen Wolf, and I am not making money off of this. o.o**

Last time:

_Feeling like every bone in my body had liquefied, I played a rousing- read: exhausting- game of twenty questions with my father and, when he was satisfied with his interrogation, oozed my boneless way up to my room. The adrenaline must have worn off with a vengeance because I fell asleep before I made it to my bed, lolling across the floor with one arm extended towards my ultimate destination. It was lucky for me that there was no school tomorrow._

_Though, you know, my luck has always had ways of balancing itself out._

In other words, Scott was being clingy. I went over to his house a few hours before he'd have to go meet Hale to talk over what had happened, and he greeted me at the door with a bone-breaking hug, followed by a friendly slap to the shoulder. Whenever we moved locations in the house, he threw an arm around my shoulders or guided me with a hand on my back. If I sat down across from him, he would get up and switch seats to be next to me, and if he wanted to emphasize a point or just get my attention, he'd touch my arm or my shoulder or my leg. Even his mother commented on it, but all that accomplished was having Scott move us up to his bedroom.

"I don't want her to realize anything's different about me," Scott explained under his breath and with darting eyes as he "led" me up the stairs with a hand on my lower back.

The worst of it, however, was that when I plopped down onto his bed next to him and he absent-mindedly threw an arm around my waist, I almost let him keep it there. Now, don't get me wrong, there are those friends that cling together like Siamese twins, but the truth of it is: those are girls. They can get away with it. Scott, however, needed to remove his hand from the side of my thigh immediately or suffer the wrath of my wounded manliness.

"Scott," I said matter-of-factly, moving his arm so it'd be back by his side with his hand in his own lap, "I think you're more of a puppy than a wolf."

"Excuse me?" Scott's voice trembled between offense and laughter as he clasped his hands in his lap to keep from touching me any more.

"You know what I mean," I waved his concern off flippantly, almost laying a hand on his shoulder before thinking better of it, "You just aren't as badass as Hale."

"Well, I'm sorry I'm not being 'badass' enough for you," Scott pulled his book bag up onto the bed with a sigh, "My organizational skills must not be badass enough for you either. I suppose you should go ask Hale to help you."

I threw myself on the ground in apology, worshipping his shoes until he took it back. However, a little shoe worship wasn't enough, later, to achieve one of my major goals.

"Please, can I go with you?" I drew out the syllables of each word as we clomped down the stairs, Scott actually fleeing before me, "I'll stay in the car!"

"No," he opened the front door, "You're going home and I'm going to meet-" With a glance at his mom in the kitchen, he continued, "-Eddie to go over our essays for a peer edit." This time a poisonous glare was thrown in my direction, "Alone."

This supposedly final statement prompted, of course, a long stream of ill thought-out promises, "I'll stay in the car, and I won't even open the window, and I'll lay along the bottom so he can't see me, and I'll bring my Gameboy so I never get bored enough to step out of the car and, uh, I'll be your willing slave for a day, and I'll-"

"Wait," Scott had that scary gleam in his eye again, "What was that last one?"

"You didn't let me finish it," I shot back.

"No, the one before that."

Thinking back over what I had said was more difficult than I imagined it would be, "Uhhh…"

"Did I hear something about, oh, having you as my willing slave for one day?" Scott grinned toothily, and I swear his wolf must have been coming out because those teeth looked pointy.

"Ah! I-take-it-back-I-take-it-back-I-take-it-back!" I backed up to the wall, where Scott slapped his hands in place on either side of me.

"Oh, but I thought you really wanted to go see what uh, Eddie's editing would be like," Scott mock-pouted, invading my personal bubble as he did so.

"NO! I changed my mind!" I cringed back as I realized what I had almost allowed myself to fall into. Scott's a nice guy, right? Well, if he looks at you like an equal. The problem is, Scott's got a creepy little flaw to him- the slightest hint of actual power over someone and he flips out. Or at least, the slightest hint of power over me. It's like he is the perfect example of "absolute power corrupts absolutely." The last time I'd traded slavery (again, believing in Scott's inherent niceness) for something from Scott had not been a pleasant debacle. Then again, the last time this had happened we were still in elementary school, so perhaps he'd matured over the years.

The amused glint in Scott's eyes told me not. …Maybe it was a good thing Scott's wolf was in charge of his full powers. So far.

"What's going on over there?" Ms. McCall warned, trying not to laugh, "Don't let Scott beat you down just because he has asthma, Genim; sock him one in the stomach if you have to."

"Thanks, Ms. McCall, but I'd prefer not to," I called back, slipping down and out of Scott's body-cage.

Scott laughed once, a barking, doglike sound, and fixed me with an intense look that belied the smile on his face, "So you will not show up at H- Eddie's house today, understood?"

With a reluctant compliance pried out of me, Scott left the house with a slam of the door.

"I do not get what is up with him lately," Ms. McCall, apparently uncaring that I was here without Scott, complained. "I take a day off of work to spend time with my family and he's cranky as all get out."

"Not to mention, gone," I added, coming in and grabbing a sponge, "Want some help?"

"If it's not too much trouble," She grinned, "I'm used to cleaning bedpans, not dishes."

"Here, I'll wash, you dry," I moved her gently from the sink and plunged my hands into the soapy water.

"Honestly," Ms. McCall blew a strand of hair out of her face; "I think the only time anything gets really clean around here is when you come over."

I couldn't help but laugh, and a mischievous feeling came over me as I realized how to explain away Scott's mood, "You know, he didn't take his inhaler to the dance last night."

"What are you implying, Stiles?" She asked with dry humor, focusing on the glassware she was working with.

I turned a full beam grin on her, "He was breathing so fast with Allison he had a minor asthma attack right in the middle of the dance floor and had to leave her in the lurch just because he hadn't wanted to look like a loser with an inhaler."

Ms. McCall burst out laughing.

The next time I saw Scott was on Monday, when he was anxiously scouring the hallways for Allison.

"I have to apologize," He fretted, wringing his hands, "That was probably the worst date ever and she'll never want to see me again because we just ran out without an explanation."

"Actually…" Oh, didn't Derek say something about not remembering what happened when they turned completely? Hmm, I'm starting to regret not paying attention. "I kinda told her you were having an asthma attack and left your inhaler at home."

"What?!"

"Oh, and your mom, too."

"WHAT?!"

After the little incident was sorted out I managed to get my own questions in about his training session. "So," I stumbled a little and caught myself, scurrying to catch up as Scott stalked the halls, "What exactly did you do with our mysterious Mr. Derek Hale?"

Scott rolled his eyes, anxiety momentarily forgotten, "We talked about you."

I did an open-mouthed double take, "Seriously? Why?" Weren't they supposed to be, I don't know, teaching Scott to control his inner wolf? "Where's the badassery of that?" Also, that's just not cool! I expected like, lessons on how to fully shift or use their awesome powers, not old lady gossip!

A locker slammed nearby and Scott cringed, never stopping his search of the hallway. "Well, he was curious about when you said you had a 'healing touch' and we talked about it."

Yeah, but now I was curious and detail was severely lacking from Scott's little explanation. "But what did he say?"

Scott was rubbing my clothed wrist like a worry stone now and I was a little concerned that I hadn't noticed until that moment he'd even grabbed it. Was I becoming desensitized? Of course, Scott didn't seem to realize he was doing anything either. "Uh, something about your exposure to something called aconite? And it combining with my view of you?"

"What view- wait, you don't know what aconite is?" My voice went deadpan as he stared at me without the slightest ray of comprehension dawning in his expression, "It's in almost any werewolf movie ever made?" I suggested. He shook his head. "Severus Snape asks Harry Potter about its other names in a roundabout way in the first book?"

"Oh!" His eyes lit up for a second, "Monkshood?"

"Yes, but also…" I trailed off, but he didn't appear to be coming up with the answer anytime soon so I started, "Wolfs… Wolfsba-"

"Wolfsbane! Wolfsbane, got it!"

"My god, you are so not prepared for this."

"Shut up."

"Well, you aren't!"

**I so totally stole this last scene, but I loved it so much!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Diss the claim: No I do not own.**

Last time:

_"Wolfsbane! Wolfsbane, got it!"_

_"My god, you are so not prepared for this."_

_"Shut up."_

_"Well, you aren't!"_

The bell rang for first period before he could find Allison and as his anxiety grew, so did his clinginess. He was actually hanging on my sleeve and popping up and down like a meerkat by lunch. I was not amused.

"Look, you texted her, right?" I gestured questioningly and he nodded, "Said you'd meet her by the parking lot after school?" He nodded again, this time nibbling on a nail and leaving finger-shaped bruises through my sleeve. "She said she'd be there?" He nodded for a third time. "Then you really need this."

He never did see a slap coming when I delivered that line. You'd think he'd have pieced those two together as cause and effect by now.

He held his cheek and rotated his jaw a few times, looking at me with betrayal, "Oh, god, _Stiles;_ why did you _do _that?" I waited in superior silence as he tilted his head a little to stretch his neck and then rotated his shoulders a bit, "I actually do feel a bit better."

"Unlike _you_, plebian," I addressed him haughtily, preparing my delicious sandwich to receive my holy bite, "I know more than one way to use my awesome powers." As Scott put the pieces together I raised my sandwich towards my mouth only for Scott to move between us (my lovely sandwich and I) and take an enormous, sloppy bite.

"Tha's fa' sla'in' me whe' ya' di'in' haf ta'" he informed me smugly through a mouthful of my defiled sandwich.

"You're a jerk." Although I didn't _have_ to _slap_ him to calm him, he had been getting on my nerves. "Your 'exposed skin' is your face and your hands 'cause you wore long sleeves today."

He swallowed the stolen sanctity of my sandwich, "So?"

"_So,_ did you want me to hold your hand in front of the entire cafeteria?" It was my turn to be smug and take a bite of my wonderful sandwich.

Good thing he hadn't taken the whole thing or I would've tackled him- werewolf powers or no.

After school he was off like a shot to the parking lot, and I could make my leisurely way to the locker room without a single detour to look for Allison, or weight dragging me down, or the odd little remarks Scott quips off when he's not thinking about it… All _right_, I'm a nerd and I have no friends so, of _course,_ I missed Scott after getting an extended dose of companionship.

Luckily there was always Danny.

Poor, poor Danny.

Scott rushed in before practice and collapsed heavily on the bench in front of his locker right around when Danny's fingers seemed on the verge of snapping off from how tightly he was clenching them against his palm.

As I pulled my sock on, I nudged Scott with my other foot. "Didja apologize to Allison?" He looked at me blearily.

"Yes."

"…And is she going to give you another chance to knock her socks off?"

"…Yes…"

"That's great!" I slapped him on the shoulder and started grabbing his lacrosse gear from his locker, "So what's your _problem?"_

"Her dad is a _Hunter_." Scott let his head sink down onto his knees.

"What? Her dad-"

"_Shot_ me-"

"Is a hunter?"

"-With a _crossbow_."

I gaped at him in honest shock and I must've looked a bit like a cod because Danny snapped my jaw shut with his lacrosse stick as he passed by, snapping me out of it. I lowered my voice to an urgent whisper, "Oh my god, did he _recognize_ you?"

Scott propped his chin up on his hands, "No. At least," He amended, "I don't think so."

"Does _Allison_ know about it?" I followed up, shoving Scott's gear into his lap.

Scott's entire posture became picture perfect as every muscle in his body went rigid. "Oh god, I didn't even think of that. Oh no…." He moaned, his visage becoming the very image of pain.

I 'surreptitiously' checked the locker room for stragglers and, when the coast seemed clear, grabbed Scott's hand. I held it between mine until his breathing had leveled out and I had his attention, "Don't freak out right now. Think about lacrosse. Or whatever will distract you from Alli- …All your problems. Something that'll make you calm."

Scott was staring at me with an unreadable expression on his face, "I'll do that."

I laughed a little in relief, "Ookay, so I'll just uh, get on out there, huh?" Releasing his hand and clapping him on the back I left to go occupy my bench space until Coach had finished roll call. Eerily, I felt myself being watched the entire way out.

Lucky for me, Peter is a funny guy when you're not in a bad mood or feeling insecure about your height. The two of us joked around a bit as we waited for all of the team to assemble for practice. Jackson and the Coach appeared just barely after Scott made it out onto the field, still focusing that too intense stare at me every chance he got. Not to mention the invasion of personal space he could get away with as we jogged around the field in full gear to "prep you little ladies for the next game, so don't you _whine_ and _cry_ to _me_!" Or so Coach explained it. Scott ran beside me rather than behind; so, there was one blessing counted. Wait- What was that train of thought imply-

"Stilinsky! McCall! Head in the game! You're falling behind!"

"Yes, Coach!" We both nervously snapped out at once. However, Scott wasn't just coming out of some random daydream. As Coach shouted, Scott distinctly turned his gaze away from me. _Great. We can add inappropriately long bouts of staring into the werewolf symptom bin for now._

It wasn't long before we were all taking shots at Jackson. Almost literally. Oh, I crack myself up sometimes. Anyway, I didn't even get to take a crack at releasing years of repressed anger at the little Lydia-stealing creep because Scott had to go and wolf out. That's right. He wolfed inconveniently.

Scott had stepped up to the plate and fallen dramatically short, not even budging Jackson, and Coach took him aside, said something I immediately identified even without audio as "a precursor to Very Bad Things," and sent him back to try again with a little humiliating chant thrown in for good measure.

Oh Coach. Sometimes I want to strangle you.

Scott's second shot was more than successful; Jackson was down for the count. Probably wouldn't make it to the game on Saturday. However, my major concern as I rushed down to where they were, was that Scott was doubled over and it was entirely likely he was sprouting fangs that very minute.

"Come on, Scott," I hissed, heaving him up and pulling his arm over my shoulders as I dragged him to the locker room. Terrifying deadweight, that's what he was all the way there. I babbled nonsensically to him until I got him seated in a less-visited corner of the boy's locker room. To this day, I have no clue what I might have said, but I'm relatively certain it was all in English.

I must have waited a maximum of four seconds before I took his hand, but for some reason Scott began to shake his head. "What? Scott, what _is_ it?"

"Not enough," He growled through gritted teeth. Seeing as he appeared to be incapacitated with pain and anger, one can imagine my surprise when Scott actually jumped up, pinning me to the row of lockers behind me with a rattling clang and pressing his forehead to mine. Of course, the hand that had crept under my shirt merited a little more concern, but it was less obvious in the way Scott had sneakily slid it there.

I didn't even fidget, so paralyzing was my fear that my calming effect had suddenly and catastrophically failed. I could feel every heavy, strained breath Scott dragged into his lungs, and little pinpricks of pain blossomed on my stomach from the claws he unwittingly pressed against my skin.

"Claws, claws, claws, claws," I reminded him breathlessly, trying somewhat hysterically to suck my stomach in, away from the imminent threat.

"Sorry," He rumbled through slowly shrinking fangs even as he shifted- but did not remove- his hand on my stomach so his claws wouldn't come in contact with me. "Let… Please let me for one more… One more second…"

The plus side to being close enough to feel his breath was that I knew the precise moment when his heart rate came back to something more normal, even though my own was fluttering in my throat like a frightened bird. He groaned as the last extra bit of keratin was sucked back into his skin and let his head fall to my shoulder. I grabbed his elbows to keep him from slipping off and down to the floor.

"Really takes a lot out of you to start and stop uh- shifting so quick, huh?" I rambled nervously. After a few moments passed, however, the fading fear gave way to irritation, "Scott, old buddy? I'ma sit you down because, regardless of how wonderfully comfortable I pride myself on being, I am _not_ going to stand here until my legs buckle holding you up." Scott actually laughed a little into my shoulder, but pushed against the lockers to fall back onto the bench and release me. I crossed my arms and stared him down, fighting the urge to fidget as he watched me back. "Well?"

I wasn't exactly sure what I was asking for. It appeared, though, that Scott knew. He gave me a dramatic seated bow, "Thanks be to you, oh mighty Genim 'Stiles' Stilinsky!"

"Don't call me that!"

"How can I ever repay you, sir Genim?"

"_Stop_ calling me that!"

"Your wish is my command, Stiles."

"…Yeah, okay, that was cheap, but anyway," I took a moment to kneel down and really look at his face so he could see how serious I was about this, "I don't think you should play in the game on Saturday."

"What?" I searched his upset visage for comprehension. Zip. Zero. Zilch.

Okay, let's take it from the top, "Your heart racing, your breath quickening, _aggression _is what makes you transform right?"

"…But that's lacrosse…" Scott concluded as the last vestiges of cheerfulness drained from his features. A sort of grim determination, though, marched in, "But if you're there-"

"Didn't you have to basically molest me a few minutes ago just to get calm?" I reminded him, trying not to think of it myself. It wasn't that it had felt entirely bad- Shut up, Stiles. "Are you that eager to do something like that in front of an entire audience of witnesses?"

Scott opened his mouth to say something with a hint of red to his cheeks, but the locker room door burst open with a slam as the other players filed in.

Jackson was being bundled through the room and I grabbed Peter's arm as he passed, "Is he okay?"

Peter hesitated, "He'll live, but…" With a 'so-so' motion of his hands he continued, "I don't know if he'll be able to play." He glanced at Scott, staring grimly at a locker with dejection written in every angle of his posture and asked, "Dude, is _Scott_ okay?"

I tried not to flicker my gaze over to the werewolf as I replied nonchalantly, "He'll be fine; he's just eaten up that he hurt Jackson so much." Scott, luckily, chose that moment to groan and drop his head into his hands.

Great timing. I must congratulate him on it later.

"You know how Coach can rile us up," Peter shrugged, "We're just lucky they weren't both heading for each other with intent to kill." With that last, dubious (in my mind) remark, Peter was gone, along with most of the team as they bobbed along in Jackson's wake like so many hand-wringing ducklings.

"I guess," Scott started tentatively when the sounds of the few remaining players changing blocked out most of any other variety of noise, "I guess I should tell Coach tomorrow that I can't play the game. It's not like anyone will die from one game."

I clapped him proudly on the shoulder, "Especially if you're not in it." Honestly, Scott isn't as hopeless as I make him out to be; he has higher functions of thought even if they only temporarily shine through.

It's just too bad that resolve couldn't last.


	8. Chapter 8

**Diss the claim: No, I do not own Teen Wolf.**

**Last time:**

_"I guess," Scott started tentatively when the sounds of the few remaining players changing blocked out most of any other variety of noise, "I guess I should tell Coach tomorrow that I can't play the game. It's not like anyone will die from one game."_

_I clapped him proudly on the shoulder, "Especially if you're not in it." Honestly, Scott isn't as hopeless as I make him out to be; he has higher functions of thought even if they only temporarily shine through._

_It's just too bad that resolve couldn't last._

By practice on Friday, Scott was spewing forth all the different threats and such he had received about the game. Derek, like I had, had strongly warned against it, but he felt that if I was present it was unlikely Scott would go full-out wolfman. Apparently, Scott hadn't felt the need to tell him my effect on him was getting somehow less potent. Which, of course, I cuffed him upside the head for since he obviously had less brain cells left to damage than I had thought. Once Scott got his hurt and betrayed puppy dog whimpers out of the way, he filled me in on his mom taking off work, Lydia threatening to introduce Allison to all the "hot lacrosse players," and Coach saying he'd be off first line if he didn't play in the game.

Lydia, at least, probably had good intentions at heart and just wanted our school and Scott to do their best since she didn't know _why_ he couldn't play.

Or shouldn't, seeing as Scott had made up his mind to go for it.

I honestly couldn't believe he and Derek were condoning this. A little of my inner turmoil must have shown on my face, because when I got home, my dad cornered me for another round of our favorite family game. That's Twenty Questions in case anyone wasn't paying attention earlier.

"Are you really okay?" He finished up with, following me into the kitchen as I set about making dinner.

"Yeah, I'm _fine_." I thought the finality in my voice clearly communicated that I judged the matter _closed._ I pulled down the rounded pan I'd heard was called a _wok_ and turned to face Dad with a grin. "I'm thinking of trying to make stir fry tonight, got any sauce preferences?" He shifted from foot to foot uneasily. My smile slid from my face to melt into the grout between the tiles on the floor in a way I wanted to emulate, "You… Aren't going to be home tonight, are you?"

"You just caught me on the way out the door," He admitted, barely meeting my eyes. "I wouldn't go if it-"

"If it wasn't important, yeah, I know." I'd finished the tired line with him and hung up the _wok_ with a grin that probably didn't look too forced. "Guess I don't have to make as much food tonight."

"Aw, hell, Stiles. I hate it when you do that."

"What are you talking about?" That sentence was a decoy. I'm not crazy enough to ignore my own passive-aggressive behavior.

"Listen," He caught my eyes this time, and I felt compelled to pay attention, so I stopped bumbling around the kitchen and crossed my arms over my chest, "I really do care about you, even if I don't always know how to show it, and I spend all this time at my job to keep this town –you- safe."

He seemed so beaten up about it every time that it was hard to keep the resentment alive and I deflated. "I get it, Dad, just-" I caught his arm and gave it a squeeze, "be careful, okay?"

The usual surprise flickered through his eyes and I fought the urge to throttle him for allowing my concern to shock him so consistently. _Because, obviously, teen boys are _way _too shallow for that. _"You too, kid."

I laughed a tad nervously, "What do _I_ have to be worried about with you on the job?"

His smile lingered in my head after he left, but not near strongly enough to fight off the knowledge of _exactly_ what I had to be worried about.

"I really don't like this, Scott," I fidgeted in the minutes before the game, "I swear, someone is going to die."

Scott gave my shoulder an absent rub from where he was fixing the fit of his shoe, "_I_ am trying not to think about it."

"Come _on_, Scott, this has 'bad idea' written all over it." Scott fixed me with a Look and I continued, "Alright, so maybe you already know all this and feel you have no choice because of Allison." Scott's Look evolved into a full-blown Eye Roll. "Okay, fine, then you just have to, uh, take it easy and think relaxing things and try not to think about Allison sitting in the stands or Lydia introducing her to the team or how you could potentially blow your and Hale's secret or how that could get someone kill-" Scott was staring at me in abject horror now and I took a deep breath, clapping him on the shoulder, "Never mind. I'm sure it'll all be fine."

"You really have a way of convincing a guy," Scott whined, putting his helmet on as we exited the locker room.

"Listen, I'll keep my gloves off so just remember to come by for a fist bump or something throughout the game to try and keep your uh, issue under control," I offered conciliatorily. "Granted, people will think our amazing bromance has reached new heights, but, you'll probably stay un-furry."

"I don't get that furry," Scott muttered petulantly.

"Uh huh." I slapped his back, sending him forward a bit as I made my way towards the bench, "Keep on telling yourself that."

Ah, the bench. A timeless commodity for those of us who long to be part of a sports team but don't have the talent to actually be helpful to the team as a whole. Only a year ago, Scott and I would both be here, united against the world, cheering on first string with only a slight tinge of resentment in our voices. Now, it was enough for me that he was out there.

Aw, who was I kidding? I was training my ass off. Next year I better get on first string or so help me god…

"Okay, Scott, you can do this," I murmured, ignoring the odd looks I was getting from my fellow bench mates as they could hear the sibilants of my comments but not the actual words.

"You okay, Stiles?" Dave asked with clear concern in the crease of his brow.

I looked up at the rest of Team Bench, "Oh yeah, I'm just uh, sending positive vibes at the team. Pay no attention." I turned my gaze back to Scott just as the game began and a furious flailing of limbs took over the battlefi- I mean the lacrosse field. It soon became obvious Jackson had something weird going on as he kept stealing the ball from Scott or even throwing plays to keep Scott away from it while the other members weren't tossing a single pass Scott's way no matter how advantageously he was placed. "Come on, Scott, don't lose your cool," I muttered, and Scott glanced in my direction. No way. Could he seriously…? "You can hear me, can't you?" Despite the tense and angry stance Scott's body had assumed as he waited for the ball to be in play again, he flashed what looked like a half-hearted grin in my direction. "Okay, alright, this is good. Now just, try to focus on getting the ball in the net. Just that. Okay?" I wasn't sure if it was helpful because Scott just settled a little deeper into his stance.

The other team had possession and Scott managed to intercept a pass, hurtling the ball across the field to Peter, who was positioned right near the opposing team's goal.

I leaned forward, my knee bouncing with anxious energy. We were down four to five and this shot could potentially bring us back up to even footing. Peter jerked forward, the ball flying smoothly towards the unguarded side of the net and the goalie seemed to be moving too slowly to get to it in time when a defense player from the other team leapt into the path of the ball and executed this perfect, spinning, in-the-air catch with his net, tossing it to a teammate on the other side of the field. It was only a few moments later that we were down four to six. "Alright, we still have a chance of winning this, don't get riled up," I reminded Scott in a voice so quiet I could barely hear myself, "Just stay focused and breathe. A lot. And deeply. Like yoga. I heard it's relaxing." Was… Was Scott laughing? I squinted and tried to make out his face through the helmet, but suddenly Scott stiffened, staring fixedly at Jackson and the other players from our team gathered in a small circle. Whatever they were saying seemed to make a risky situation turn horribly, horribly worse. As my anxiety grew, my leg bounced higher and faster.

Scott began to slouch forward like he wanted to go on all fours and I wished I could just run out onto the field and drag him off. Or that he'd _get his ass over here_ so I could help calm him down. However, the ball was almost in play again and Scott was taking his place on the field, so I wasn't exactly confident he'd listen if I reminded him of the fist bump idea. I wasn't sure I would, in his place. It even sounded lame in my head. _Quick, Scott, get over here so I can fist bump you into relaxation!_ Actually, on second thought, it didn't sound lame. It just sounded really, _really_ wrong. And now I was probably red in the face on top of the jumping knee. Great.

Dave reached over and pushed my knee down, holding it in place, "Stop it. You're making the whole bench shake." When he released my leg, I tried to keep it still but the nerves within me were jerking and twitching and shocking one another with high voltages so it was only a matter of seconds before it started up again. Dave put his hand on my knee with a slight twitch of the vein in his neck, "_Stilinsky._"

"Sorry, sorry," I cringed, not really paying attention to what he was doing since Scott was out there looking _this_ close to wolfing out. Aforementioned werewolf looked up at the sound of my voice and I whispered, "Stay calm." His gaze lingered on me longer than necessary and he returned his attention to the game with his posture more animalistic than before. Dave took his hand off my knee with a warning glance and Coach came over to plop down next to me as Scott suddenly and viciously threw himself into the game, single-handedly bringing the score up to five-six.

"Pass to McCall!" The coach bellowed from next to me, nearly bursting my eardrums.

On the next play, however, both teams avoided him, and at one point…

"Did the other team just _deliberately_ pass him the ball?" Coach asked gruffly in bewilderment.

I stopped biting my knuckles to reply, "Yeah. Yeah, they just did that."

"Huh. Weird."

"Mm-hmm," My poor knuckles had to suffer for the comfort of Team Bench. It was knuckle biting or knee bouncing and knee bouncing would end in considerably more pain from the way Dave was eyeing me.

The score eventually rose to six-six due to Scott's inhuman efforts. Out of the blue, though, Scott froze on the field, seconds away from the end of the game and feet away from the tie-breaking shot. He appeared to be wrestling with himself, but no one from the other team dared get close enough to take advantage of his inattention.

"Come on, Scott," I urged into the murmuring hush of the moment, "You can do it, take the shot." And just like that the spell was broken, and the ball somehow miraculously in the net, and everyone was cheering, and I hugged the coach for reasons I am unsure of to this day, and Scott was gone- Shit. I released our ecstatically whooping Coach to join the rest of the team on the field and sprinted as quickly as my legs could take me to the locker room.

I almost developed tunnel vision with how focused I felt, running towards that door. However, when I reached for the handle, someone else's hand was there, too.

"Allison?" I panted, looking up at the brunette beauty as she smiled uncertainly.

"I'm going to go congratulate Scott," she explained without prompting, a grin lighting up her features, "So, I'll just…"

"You can't go in there!" I threw myself across the door before I really realized what I was doing. "Uh, I mean," I groped for an adequate explanation as one of Allison's eyebrows slowly rose above the other one and her hand planted itself firmly to her hip. "It's the boy's locker room! He could be naked! I'll go get him for you!" Allison began to protest but I slipped in and dead bolted the door behind me. "Trust me," I quipped caustically as I walked hesitantly deeper into the maze of lockers, "You really don't want to be in here right now."

"Stiles! Let me in!" She pounded on the door once more before, frustrated, she either walked away or, more likely, sank to the ground to wait me out.

Stubborn girl.

"Scott?" I called tentatively and quietly, "Are you in here?" A skittering sound, like claws on concrete, answered me. "Okay, so probably." I turned in a slow circle, trying to find where exactly wolf-y Scott was hiding in wait for his unwary prey, "Why don't you come out so we can calm you down, huh? You get your teddy time?" Did I really just offer that? To a werewolf? So, granted, I wasn't thinking clearly with an angry werewolf on the loose. The phrasing still could have been a little better in that statement.

There was a thump as something literally _landed_ on the floor behind me. Two caramel-colored arms slipped up the front of my shirt and the body pressed behind me gave a violent shudder of relief before he half-growled at me through his fangs, "Teddy time? Seriously?"

I put my hands gingerly on the bumps his arms made in my shirt and asked semi-wryly but still with a light quaver in my voice, "What would _you_ call this?" It was very warm, very close, and very much a teddy-time type moment. Not that I wanted to be delegated to such a demeaning role but- well, anything for the greater good, right?

"_Stiles!_ I _swear_ I will get the coach!" Allison's shout drifted to us, muffled by the solid oak door between her and entry.

"He's throwing his clothes back on!" I yelled back, "He'll be done in a minute!"

"Fine!" Allison replied, her voice an odd mixture of exasperation and amusement.

"You _will_ be done in a minute, won't you?" I whispered, now aware that Allison was very likely leaning on the door with her ear against the opaque window.

"…Yeah." His quiet voice already sounded less garbled by the fangs but his grip on me tightened a nearly imperceptible amount. Probably a muscle spasm.

Speaking of inexplicabilities, Scott had seemed slightly more in control of himself before he looked up into the crowd. There must have been something more to his wolfing than just Jackson's pettiness.

"I get that Jackson was being a dick, but… what happened when you looked at me that one time?" I asked carefully, still whispering, "Right before you shifted?"

"Nothing," He shrugged against the back of my shoulders, "I just… So, what was happening with Dave?"

"Dave?" I echoed, nonplussed at the random subject change, "He stopped my knee from bouncing and threatened me with bodily harm? What does that have to do with anything?"

"Nothing." Scott's arms slipped out from under my shirt, his fingers lingering on my skin longer than absolutely necessary and he hesitated, redirecting his arm to loop around my shoulders rather than my waist as he walked towards the door.

"Nice to know we are relearning boundaries," I sniped sarcastically and at a normal volume, unlocking the door as I shrugged off the warm- eh, I mean- cumbersome arm. "Hey, Allison. He's all yours."

"Thanks for the seal of approval," She retorted cheekily with a dryness that could potentially give even me a run for my money.

I left; I could come back and change later. Plus, I wasn't particularly pleased with the way Scott was acting. He was holding back something that had triggered his change -when _I_ had been the one who had to help him through it. _And_ which I had missed the celebration for, I might add. The fervor of the crowd had died down when I stepped back into it, but Ms. McCall still found me and congratulated me even though I hadn't once made it onto the field.

"It's your team," She encouraged me warmly, shaking my shoulder a little with a smile, "You train with them, you work with them, and you support them. You're a bright spot and I know they appreciate it. Especially Scott."

"I'm pretty sure Scott's got a new bright spot in his life- if you know what I mean," I waggled my eyebrows, "Even if Allison's totally out of his league."

Ms. McCall whacked me on the shoulder good-naturedly, "Don't say that. Either part of that. Also, Scott probably needs you more than he needs me."

I tapped her shoulder lightly in mimicry of her; adding in the same tone, "Don't say that. Scott will always need you," with a laugh. I felt a little less irritated with Scott, though, and that was all for the better.

Parents and spectators jostled us as the original flood off the bleachers faded into a secondary wave into the parking lot.

"Are you going to that after-game party thing Scott was telling me about?" Ms. McCall asked, moving with the crowd which compelled me to stride after her, "I hear it's going to be really uh, _cool_."

"Oh, uh, I don't think so," I said, shaking my head with a little self-deprecating grin, "Not really my scene." Well, that and I didn't want to see Allison and Scott making out… No- Actually- that came out wrong: I didn't want to see _Lydia_ and _Jackson_ making out again. Not that I'd _want_ to watch my best friend making out with anyone either but… Let's stop there. We'd reached the edge of the field and I stopped, hooking a thumb over my shoulder at the locker rooms, "Well, I gotta go and change." Clothes. Not into a werewolf like your son. Why did everything I was thinking about seem to come back to that?

"Bye, Genim," Ms. McCall waved at me with a knowing smile as she stalked out into the parking lot. She never seemed to just walk anywhere. That woman moved with _purpose_.

I suppose it was to be expected from the woman who tossed her no good husband out on his ass without a twinge of insecurity.

Allison had gone by the time I made it to the locker room, and a lot of the team was half way through the process of putting on their street wear when I walked in and was accosted by Scott.

"I kissed her," He told me.

Well, there went my mood down the toilet. Had to rub in his relationship status, didn't he? "Great, Scott; I'm happy for you, really."

"She kissed me back," He continued obliviously.

"Oh, wow, really?" I asked sarcastically as I pulled off my shirt, "How _was_ that?"

A shifting indecision molded his face, "It was… Kissing, I guess."

"No, seriously? Like lips touching and everything?"

"Yeah… It just…" Scott hadn't caught on to the sarcasm yet. I feared for his continued intelligence. He sat heavily next to me, "It didn't really feel like anything."

I stopped in the middle of removing my foot from the second leg of my pants, "Run that by me again?"

"It just felt like, you know, lips touching," Scott mumbled in frustration, "Like it wasn't anything special."

"That's… But you really like this girl! Why doesn't it…" I trailed off, unsure where I was headed with the question when I had so many possibilities. "Are you sure?"

"_Yes_, I'm sure," Scott muttered into his hands, "How could I _not _be sure?"

"Well, have you, you know, kissed anyone else?" I asked awkwardly, resuming my changing and trying to ignore how Scott was overlooking my state of undress to watch my replies without scruple.

You know, I had always thought it was only girls who would talk about this kind of thing, but I found myself more and more entangled in the web of male gossip as we all got older and it evolved to match that of the girls in elementary school. As in, effective and scarily accurate. Sad, that.

Scott's bright red blush answered for him and he grinned half-heartedly, "Just you, apparently."

"Ha, ha, funny. I was trying to _save your life_, since you don't remember." I couldn't help but reflect his feeble grin back at him, and it seemed to cheer him a little. I pulled my jeans on, zipping and buttoning them under Scott's unwavering eyes, "Maybe you two just need some practice. Li~ike at the pa~arty toni~ight…?" I devolved into a singsong voice as the sentence went on, a shit-eating grin stretching across my face, "Although… Your technique's probably awful at this point."

"Uh huh," Scott raised one eyebrow at me as he finally got his ass in gear and we gathered what was left of our stuff, walking us out to the parking lot. "And how many people have _you_ kissed?" I opened my mouth to answer and he cut me off with an already irritated smirk, "I don't count."

With a scowl, I muttered, "None, then." Scott looked far too smug, though, so I continued with a haughty air, "I bet Allison would still think I'm a better kisser than you are. After all, I haven't got fangs to get in the way."

"As if. I have much more energy and- and- passion," Scott scowled, still slightly joking. Or so I thought.

"I'll believe it when I see it; until you've proved it, you've got the skills of a dead donkey," I retorted offhandedly, and Scott's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

Okay, maybe I went a little too far with that jab, but he'd been asking for it! …Sort of.

Scott grabbed my arm without a word and pulled me off the field, past the bleachers, and into the bushes by the school and there was something off about him. A tinge of the true wolf. An undercurrent of something full of pent up rage and frustration. Ah, poetic rendition. It really seems to subvert my mental faculties when I begin to panic. That and exaggeration. There may have been a healthy _bucket _or two of that, as well.

Naturally, I didn't offer much resistance. With the less than intelligent comment, I was expecting some kind of backlash, but I didn't exactly see a kiss coming.

Go ahead. Read the sentence again.

It won't change.

Unless someone has some sort of time-bendy ability and they can gun me down before any of this happens- wait, I'm getting off track.

So while Scott was enjoying my tonsils, my mind was racing at a million miles a second. At least, until Scott did something terrifyingly amazing with his tongue and it almost instantaneously shut down. For a few minutes, I had the chance to fully appreciate the sensation of sliding tongues and strong hands running over my back and sides even as I tangled my fingers firmly in Scott's hair.

When we surfaced for good, I couldn't do much more than stand and try to catch whatever breath Scott hadn't sucked into himself, watching as his eyes flashed sporadically while he watched me watching him.

If that was the way he'd kissed Allison, he definitely didn't need any practice.

…Allison.

Wait, fuck Allison. What about Lydia?

"It's a good thing we're such good friends, or I might've read into that burst of wolf-y temper a little," I tried to speak normally through my breathlessness and I could tell it came out sounding worse than I'd intended, but I couldn't drudge up the energy to care. The leaves rustled in the wind, as if emphasizing my point.

Scott flinched slightly away, as if he'd been leaning in closer a moment before, "Yeah." He dragged up a grin from somewhere; "Bet you can't say I'm a bad kisser now."

"I've had better," I dismissed him casually, stepping out of his arms and regarding him with a smirk, "Try it that way on Allison tonight, huh?"

"You haven't had better," Scott snorted, his arms seeming stiff by his sides.

"No, Scott, despite telling you I haven't had my first kiss yet, I've obviously kissed loads more and better than you," I rolled my eyes good naturedly, pulling him out of the bushes since he didn't seem in any danger of wolfing out any more. His eyes had settled on a color and his nails and teeth were behaving.

Of course, I should have chewed him out for stealing the first kiss that could have rightfully been Lydia's but… I didn't really want to think about what it could mean. At all. Ever. I was living happily in the land of 'Let's pretend this never happened' and I never wanted to leave.

"That was sort of too far for a joke, wasn't it?" Scott laughed nervously, all of his joviality slipping from his fingers like sand. The harder he gripped at it the faster it slid away. He looked more guilty than anything and I figured it had more to do with Allison than with me, but…

"I'll forgive you." The words popped out without prompting and I was surprised to find I meant it. Even if I had had another first kiss to be stolen and he'd taken it from me again, I'd still have been able to keep from being too mad at him. It wasn't like it'd been entirely un-enjoyable or that he'd hurt me or infected me or done the multitude of other, worse things I knew he _could_ do to me. And it was just me, after all. No one else had to be hurt by this so long as no one found out about it. We were still alone, right?

There was a cursory check of the environment required with that thought. Scott was looking at me like I had sprouted a second head after I was done surveying the domain. He was actually genuinely smiling again, though, so it was okay that he got a laugh in at my expense.

"I'm driving you home?" There wasn't a lot I could do to make the questioning tone leave the sentence, so I figured I might as well wait for a response.

"I think my mom-"

"Oh, she left a while ago," I explained, cutting him off rudely since he was just going to go over the bits I already knew, "I wasn't actually asking. I _am_ driving you home."

"Pushy," Scott accused with a vague, uneasy smirk.

"Only 'cause you're a pushover."


	9. Chapter 9

**Diss the claim: You get the gist.**

_Last time:_

_"__Pushy," Scott accused with a vague, uneasy smirk._

_** "**__**Only 'cause you're a pushover."**_

Relations between us… Were _strained_ for the next week or so and we avoided being left alone with one another for any length of time. At least, until the bus incident.

Bus incident? What bus incident?

Like a car crash?

No, I mean like, serial-killer-blood-splatters-the-windows type of bus incident. I was intending to meet up with Scott and Allison at some point before school- or maybe just Allison since she seems to be some kind of Lydia magnet- when I pulled into the parking lot, but I couldn't even really get to a space since there was a huge crowd of people stupidly milling about in the middle of it around- someone had to have guessed it by now- a school bus.

Honestly, I couldn't see what the big deal was, but, as became apparent to me when I recognized my dad's car at the scene, something seriously bad had happened.

Plus, the bloody handprint on the bus window was a tiny hint.

Though the crowd pushed and pulled at me anxiously, I rammed straight through to the familiar stern figure of my father.

"What happened?"

He looked down at me with a frown, upset at my very presence, it seemed. Honestly, if he didn't want his kids involved with the criminal events of the town, he shouldn't have taken up a job that put him and his family smack dab in the middle of them. Although, it's not as if there had been a lot of excitement of the illegal type before… Scott's furry issues.

"Nothing you need to know about," he predictably denied me information, "Get to class."

I popped up in front of him before he could turn away, "Uh, I think if something mass-murder-y happens at _my_ school, I kind of need to know about it." I crossed my arms when he didn't look swayed, "And I'll find out from _someone_ eventually."

"No one was killed," my probably lying father retorted stiffly.

"It definitely looks like someone _was_, Dad. That was pretty weak, even for you," I dodged his grab for my ear and glared at the lack of respect he had for my evasion skills. Well, and for my ears too. "You can't get rid of me that easy."

The sheriff turned on me with no little exasperation, "Listen, the poor man suffered some sort of animal attack and he's in a coma, and now _I_ have to figure out how this happened in the middle of the school parking lot, _inside_ of a school bus!"

"Oh, so-" Animal attack? Could Scott have had a hand- claw- part in this? "Shit, okay, thanks, Dad, see you later!" Sometimes, I feel a little sad how relieved my father looks whenever I'm rushing away from him. There is, though, always a reason for the rushing. Better get back to that.

Bobbing up and down as I shoved with as little rudeness as I could manage through the gawkers' crowd, I caught sight of Scott's unruly mop. He appeared about three seconds away from freaking out, according to my internal Scott-o-meter.

"No, no no no, nonononononono, _no_…" He chanted firmly to himself. I didn't bother trying to get his attention or even slowing my pace. I grabbed his arm as I raced past, pulling him away from the potential eavesdroppers and into the school.

His weight alone stopped me halfway into the hallway but his arms took action of their own and pulled us into the shallow alcove between two rows of lockers.

He was holding my shoulders when he looked up at me with eyes still wide with vestiges of terror and informed me in a disturbingly calm tone, "I think I killed Allison."

Whatever I had been expecting… "_Allison_? So you had nothing to do with the guy on the bus?"

"_Guy_ on the bus?" Scott's brow creased. So, had he done anything or not? And was Allison okay? Had he… been with her last night…? The thought caused me an irrational level of distress and I tried to brush it off. Must be jealousy that Scott got the person he wanted. Not to mention how _sick_ it was to worry about that when Allison… "Maybe it was just a dream, then. I dreamt flashes of attacking Allison on that bus and when I saw blood there I jumped to conclusions."

"My dad definitely said it was a _man_ on the bus." I affirmed nervously, wondering how and when Scott would realize just what might have happened with the poor victim.

"But… Someone was still attacked."

"Yeah."

"I don't remember him." Scott sounded almost frustrated and I slapped my hands around his forearms, preemptively cooling any anger triggers and sapping the hints of tension out of Scott's face, "I could remember the first turn almost perfectly."

The questions battled out of me the second I edged back an inch in my defensive lock-jawed position, "Could we ask Hale about what happened? Was he there? Did he try to stop you?"

"I think… I think I remember… Another wolf…"

"Scott?" We both turned to see Allison walking toward us with an adorably confused expression of concern on her face as she adjusted the strap of her bag. She stopped a foot away and glanced between us curiously, "Is something wrong?"

I pulled my hands off Scott like his temperature had been cranked up to a hundred degrees centigrade and patted his shoulder uncertainly, "Bit of a panic attack here. He doesn't do well with blood." She 'aw'ed sympathetically and took his hand in hers, standing almost shoulder-to-shoulder with him. At that moment the need to be somewhere- anywhere- else, overtook me. Forsaking Allison's use as a Lydia-magnet, and with Scott's stricken face as his darker emotions returned burning in the back of my mind, I babbled, "I'll just, uh, leave you two alone now, shall I?" There's no wording what I did next in any honorable context. I fled. I deserted Scott in his time of need because- what? I couldn't stand to see a happy couple when I was… When I was so alone.

I stopped three lockers away from my first period class and leaned heavily on the nearest of the three. I was alone.

Well, obviously, I wasn't literally alone. I was rather surrounded by people who hadn't heard or didn't care about the catastrophe in the parking lot. The point was: I didn't have anyone. Not even in a strictly romantic sense, but I didn't have anyone whose first instinct at a party was to seek me out, or who called me just to hear about what I was doing, or who let me depend on them as much as I allowed them to depend on me.

And boy, did I let them.

Even Scott, and somehow it felt like a betrayal, but I continued stubbornly, if only in my mind rather than aloud, took more from me than he could ever give back with Allison in the picture. I mean, more than he could ever give back…

I bit my lip; an unpleasant idea was hooking sinisterly shaped claws into my conscious and I could tell it would take quite a bit of bravery to acknowledge it.

I slammed my hand against my temporary crutch and pushed up into a standing position. I didn't want to face it alone. And I wasn't feeling particularly courageous right then, anyway.

Class passed in something of an extended blur punctuated with ignoring Scott. It was selfish, and a little painful to watch his hurt confusion morph into wrath as the day dragged on. I couldn't face him with that awful idea poisoning every train of thought. My own mind felt turned against me and every dismissal of my behaviour from my peers was like extra reinforcement of how alone I was.

"Hey… You. The dorky one!" Even Lydia's voice as she addressed some mystery person in the hall behind me couldn't pull me out of my funk. Her angelic tenor grew progressively more irritated as she honed in on whatever idiot would ignore her for so long. A perfectly manicured hand landed on my shoulder, "I've been calling for you for like, ten _minutes_… You." While slightly awkward in delivery there was no doubt that she was talking to me.

"Me?" I squeaked embarrassingly, adding to the redundant idiocy of my question.

"Yes, _you_," She rolled her pretty green eyes, "I want to talk to you." I followed her obediently. Could this be it? Could she have finally realized that unspoken connection between us I'd felt for so long? My heart pounded out stampeding noises in my chest and I hoped the heat in my face wasn't as obvious as I felt it was. My hands suddenly felt clammy, so I stuck them hastily into my pockets, in case she tried to drag me by the hand at some point. The last thing I wanted at this point was to scare her off with sweaty palms.

She rounded on me, "What _exactly_ do you think you're doing?"

Okay. Definitely not going to worry about scaring her off, then. "…What do you mean?"

"You're making Scott upset with your 'woe is me' attitude and _that_ makes _Allison_ upset and _I don't like it when my friends are upset_, you hear me?" She glared at me with an intensity that niggled at my memory and made my heart skip a beat, even if it was only directed at me in anger, "So either you buck up and snap out of your funk or you get lost for a day or two until you can smile pretty and pretend it's alright, you get me?"

Well, that was an odd choice of words. Did she really think I was _pretty_? Not what I was hoping for, but I'd take what I could get… My heart sank only slightly as I realized that, if anything, Lydia would be connecting it unthinkingly back to herself. I was no fool. I would have to be an idiot to overlook the strength Lydia had when I'd obsessed over her since the third grade. That particular sentence, though, had snapped the world back into perspective. There were bigger problems than the fact that I was alone, and they weighed on everyone.

The red-haired vixen before me upped the level of her dirty looks, but I could see there wasn't much substance to them. Even Lydia had her issues, but she was here to make sure I didn't fall victim to mine.

I forced a small smile and amiably tapped her shoulder, "Thanks for worrying, Lydia."

"I'm not worried," She denied instantly, looking at her nails with raised brows and pursed lips, "I don't even know your name." I didn't say anything as I walked away from that last, jabbing remark, but I felt lighter than I had in a long time and if I wasn't mistaken, or hallucinating, Lydia just _may have_ whispered, "Better, Stilinsky. You're catching on," with a hint of a smile in her tone.

That thought alone put a spring in my step as I exited the school intent on hunting down Scott and Allison to make amends and- Oh _shit_. The little fact that Scott was _pissed to the high heavens_ seemed to have slipped my mind. He seemed to have his turning, at least, under control today, but he still had to be furious with me.

Scott used to be pretty difficult to get up to furious. Quite honestly, Scott furious with _me _scared the living daylights out of my weak little human heart. My best survival tactic would be to avoid him until he calmed down. The idea appealed to me; I'd always been a fan of ignoring problems until they went away.

Or I forgot them. Either one usually worked.

I sneaked shiftily out of the school, staying in the shadows until I edged around the corner to the parking lot. My car was nearly in sight when my world turned upside down. Literally.

"Try not to drop him!" Allison waved cheerily, "And Stiles, I suggest you talk things out!"

Scott had actually thrown me over his shoulder and- with his girlfriend's blessing- was abducting me to places unknown. To add insult to injury, I'm almost certain Scott threw a salute in Allison's general direction.

Let me tell you, there is a _reason_ you don't generally carry around conscious people on your shoulder. For one, it is uncomfortable as all get out, and two, the passenger can pound on the carrier's back with relative ease in comparison to other holds.

Not that Scott seemed to care. He was whistling a jaunty tune as we (in the loosest sense of the term) wandered down the road toward Hale's house. After a while, I grew tired of protesting and hung limply in Scott's grip.

"Are we there yet?" I whined, watching Scott's heels and prohibiting my eyes from wandering upwards. Scott's hand clenched on my leg from, I presume, the pitch of my complaint on his delicate werewolf ears. "You know, I was going to apologize once you'd calmed down," I wheedled, trying to get a grip on some bare skin on his arm as I spoke.

Scott jerked his arm slightly away, his whistling abruptly cutting off and his true emotions rising to the surface. "Don't do that. I deserve to be angry with you right now."

I fell across his back in defeat, "Can I at least walk on my own, then? I _have_ to be heavy."

He actually seemed to think about it for the next few jolting steps before shaking his head, "I don't want you to run off."

The backs of his heels were met with my scathing glare, "Could I really run off, Scott? I mean, _really_?" He was a werewolf. I was a human. Simple figuring, one would think.

"You really don't like being carried, do you?" He asked redundantly with a tinge of smug vindictiveness.

There were several moments of tense silence on my part as I tried and failed to think of a diplomatic reply. _That_ consisted of sticking out my tongue at his shoes. "I have problems, too, you know," I muttered sulkily.

"It's not like you ever tell me about them," Scott pointed out resentfully, ignoring the fact that my volume was not one most humans could hear and hence, had not truly been intended for his ears. "I have to drag it out of you or- and this is just wrong- ask my _mom_ about it." I had a feeling he glared at my legs in the pause, "You seriously find it easier to talk to my mom than me?"

"No. Yes. Sometimes?" Before he could growl at me I hastily explained, "I always want to tell you everything, Scott, I just don't always know how to say it, but your mom mostly just can guesstimate what's going on with me with her freaky voodoo powers, so I don't have to worry about if she'll think I'm weird for bringing something up because she usually already has an inkling of it, you know?" Scott did not seem convinced from the stony silence he replied with and I tried to remember how the whole argument started. _Address the main points!_ I never knew English class would come in handy in any practical applications outside of the workplace. Huh. You learn something new everyday. "I didn't mean to leave you hanging, Scott." He didn't answer but I could feel the essence of the silence change, as if his ears had perked in my direction. "It was a rotten day all around and I was already feeling a bit insecure, so I thought, you know, since you were with Allison you'd be fine. It kind of felt like you didn't need me now that Allison's in the picture and I guess… I guess it hammered home how alone I am." And there it was out in the open. At some point Scott had stopped walking, and the lack of his footfalls was deafening. The entire forest seemed to hold its breath as Scott processed what I'd said and what I'd meant with an aching languidness that felt like forever.

Scott began to move forward again. I'd resigned myself to the indignity of being ignored when Scott mumbled, "I'll always, you know… I'll always _need_ you, Stiles. More than… Anyone, really."

Well, that was heart-warming. I almost wanted to reply with similar sap, but there was a more pressing issue to be dealt with. "Then can you let me down?"

"No."

"You didn't even stop to think about it this time!"

"I'm still mad at you!"

"So?!"

"Dammit, Stiles; stop hitting me!"

"Not until you let me down!"

"God da- STILES!"

I'd managed to wriggle out of Scott's grip and land with a thump on the forest floor. It was actually sort of like one of those scenes in a horror movie, with the stillness and the isolation and my angry werewolf buddy and the darkness between the trees… You know, I understood the logistics of Hale living in the forest, but there was a primal part of me that would never quite get over the eeriness of it. I scrambled to my feet and tried to get a bit of distance between Scott and I, "I'll just walk along with you so don't- hey!" Scott swiped at me and I fell over, catching myself with an arm and propelling my body backwards and up into a standing position just a tiny bit further away than when I'd started. "Scott, wait!" Scott had taken a second swipe and connected, grabbing a belt loop and dragging me in with a grim exasperation.

"Since you refuse to be carried," He informed me darkly, sliding an arm about my waist and gripping my opposite hip painfully with a thankfully de-clawed hand, "You're going to walk _here_."

"Better than being over your shoulder," I retorted pathetically, crossing my arms defensively over my chest. After Scott and I had settled on a pace we could both maintain (it could also be described as Scott slowing down until I stopped mentally crying), most of my irritation had been assuaged by the rhythm of the walk and I had recovered enough to be curious and, admittedly, scared. "Where are we going?"

"Hale's house," Scott replied nonchalantly, his eyes fixed on me to better drink in my reaction.

"You can't bring me there!" I protested, "He'll _eat_ me!" Scott snorted. Really, though, this was no laughing matter. Hale had been _very serious_ when he'd told Scott not to bring me round again. "Why?"

"I hadn't really thought it through," Scott admitted, pulling me a little closer when I shivered from a combination of Hale-themed thoughts and the wind, "I just wanted to figure out what happened with the bus driver and I wanted to make you stop ignoring me. The two must have mixed in my head."

"Great." I shifted, "Getting any closer to remembering?" I did not want to meet up with Hale again. Something about the elder werewolf just rubbed me the wrong way. ...That, and he still kind of scared me.

"Actually..." My question had been rhetorical, thus I turned my head in surprise at Scott's musing tone and felt his hand relax slightly against my skin, becoming hyper-aware of the hand in exchange for not noticing its path under the brim of my shirt in the first place. How was I getting so used to Scott's new wolf-habits? "I remember..." Scott continued, a furrow in his brow even with my supposedly calming effect, and his eyes widened, "That wolf was not Hale."

"What do you mean?" Did wild wolves run with the pack now? And how exactly was he sure? Had he seen Hale transform?

"Its eyes were this... Burning red and it- it _connected_ with me," Scott rambled, fingers, once slack, now almost burrowing into my side.

"Like... Physically?" I awkwardly mimed the collision of two forces and Scott dragged his fingers further up my side. It elicited a small shiver that Scott seemed to dismiss as cold, pressing me flush against his side to stave it off. Whatever happened there, it hadn't been the cold getting to me and I could feel my cheeks fill with shaming blood even as my stomach twisted.

"No, like, mentally. He was _in my head_," As Scott's tone darkened, his claws pricked me and I jerked instinctively away from them, incidentally towards the true source of my pain and nearly knocking Scott over. His expression was chagrined as I forcibly removed his hand from my side, mind racing. He carefully replaced his fingers around my wrist nearest him and glanced at me, belatedly for permission. I barely noticed because- werewolf telepathy? Seriously?

"Do whatever, just don't stab me anymore," I acceded carelessly. It really didn't matter so long as I didn't get hurt since I was too eager to discuss this new development, "You two connected telepathically? Could you read his thoughts? Or could he read yours? Oooh, do you have all his memories now? I suppose not if you're not in control of your wolf still-"

A squeeze to my arm cut me off. "Stiles."

"Yeah, okay, just answer them in order."

"_Sti-_iles!"

I rolled my eyes. Forgetting that other people can't often keep up with my train of thought is a bad habit of mine I had no intention of wasting time trying to break. "You two connected telepathically?" I repeated monotonously.

Snorting before replying to someone is usually considered bad form, Scott. "I caught that one, thank you. And sort of."

"Could you or could you not read his thoughts?" I demanded once the pensive pause had stretched on an inordinate amount of time.

"No, I couldn't," Scott conceded, adding, "It was more like I could feel his emotions or- no, that's not exactly right..." When his thumb slowly began to rub the side of my wrist like a worry-stone I knew not to interrupt his thinking. Scott tends to wear holes in his knees by virtue of this particular trait alone during the school year and faster than ever during finals week. Something good better be coming out of it, though, or Scott was getting dislodged faster than you can say Stiles in a werewolf storm. "He... _forced_ feelings on me. I remember fighting them, but..."

"But you couldn't?" A voice questioned irritably from nearby, "And what did I say about bringing _that_ back here?" Hale gestured at me in disgust, appearing to have spawned from a tree trunk in the past two milliseconds.

Scott threw him a feeble grin; "I was planning on leaving him in the driveway."

"I heard about the bus driver," Hale cut in, apparently having moved on from the undying aggravation of my presence to more pressing issues, "It's likely that you actually didn't have a hand in his death."

"He's in a coma," I put in, not liking what Hale was implying.

He fixed me with an unreadable look for an infinitesimal moment before returning to his train of thought, "You'd be part of his Pack by now."

"Whose pack?" Scott cut in with the urgency of one teetering on the brink of getting the answers they need, "You know that guy?"

Hale actually hesitated, "I don't know his name, or his human form."

"But you do know why he affects Scott, don't you?" I interrupted eagerly. The end of a mystery is always better than the mystery itself and we'd been stuck in the middle of one since Scott had gotten bit. I was more than ready to push past this uncertainty in the hopes of discarding other troubling thoughts the events of the past couple weeks had brought with them.

"He's the Alpha," Hale explained with a weary glare in my direction, "And the one who turned you, Scott." He suddenly came very close to us and looked at Scott irritably, "But we shouldn't be speaking about this in front of your..." Here his eyes flickered to me distastefully, "_Friend." _Scott abruptly released my wrist at the word, glancing between Hale and me shiftily.

"He'll tell me, anyway," I muttered, shoving my hands in my pockets and ignoring the pang at Scott's sudden distance.

"But why does the Alpha have that weird ability?" Scott pressed.

"Come back later," Hale turned and began to walk away, "_Without_ the pest."

"Wait!" Scott dashed after the pale-skinned werewolf, yet he apparently had little luck in finding him since he returned dejectedly a minute or two later. "You waited for me?" He raised one questioning eyebrow as he drew close and slung an arm over my shoulders. I almost shrugged it off- he'd deserve it- but in a moment of common sense, I held in the urge to alienate my only protection in the creepy woods.

"No, Scott, I thought I'd take my chances in the werewolf-infested forest on my own."

"Sounds like you."

"Shut up."


End file.
